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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426595">Wherefore Means Why</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sloane/pseuds/Sloane'>Sloane</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Vampire: The Masquerade, Vampire: The Masquerade – Bloodlines (Video Game)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood Bond, Canon-Typical Violence, Chapter Specific Content Warnings, Ghosts, Ghouls, M/M, Malkavian Madness Network, Malkavian!Mercurio, Pining, Prophetic Visions, Queer Mercurio (They’re All Queer Here), Vampire Turning, Vampires, Very Slow Burn Cause You Know How Vampires Are About Fire</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-05-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 13:20:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>32,457</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29426595</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sloane/pseuds/Sloane</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>LaCroix’s double execution at Elysium goes off without a hitch (aside from the Sabbat attack) but the story still needs a fledgling.</p><p>Mercurio will do.</p><p>Why? His infamous Malkavian sire has his reasons, and Beckett and LaCroix are BOTH going to be furious.</p><p>(In other words, a retelling of the game that’s destined to go wildly off the rails. More tags to be added!)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anatole/Beckett (Vampire: The Masquerade), Beckett (Vampire: The Masquerade)/Mercurio (Vampire: The Masquerade - Bloodlines), Sebastian LaCroix/Mercurio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>67</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>58</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Fix</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is heavily inspired by a certain chapter in Beckett’s Jyhad Diary. If you’re not familiar with it, that’s okay... you’ll see.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>LaCroix’s agitation echoed through the blood bond, putting Mercurio on edge, too. It didn’t help that his master was pacing around his penthouse office like a caged tiger.</p><p>“How long?” LaCroix rounded on Mercurio. “How long have I been Prince of this damned city, I ask you?”</p><p>Mercurio stood with his hands behind his back like a soldier at parade rest. To his credit, he barely flinched at the pallid finger stuck in his face. Mercurio bit back his first answer, which was long enough that he was already fucking sick of LA, and said, “Long enough they oughta know better than to test you, boss.”</p><p>“Exactly!” LaCroix pounded his closed right fist into his left hand as he turned away. “This cannot stand. An example must be made.”</p><p>Mercurio watched his master in bemusement. He was used to LaCroix staring down at the city without so much as blinking as he gave his orders. He was also used to his monthly dose of vitae waiting for him in a sealed polystyrene cup on the edge of a desk, but it figured LaCroix was too rattled by the recent trespass in his domain to prepare anything. An unsanctioned embrace was a big deal, especially for a Camarilla Prince still struggling to establish his grip on the city. There were rules, lots of them, and though not quite up there with breaking the Masquerade, it was a direct insult to LaCroix’s authority as Prince. </p><p>But as his ghoul, Mercurio had other concerns, chief among them was making sure he didn’t miss his fix. That was the whole reason he was there in the first place, but some asshole Kindred picked a fine time to sire a childe without asking. It all came back to the blood—also known as vitae, because the fuckers had a fancy word for everything up to and including Kindred in the place of vampire. Not that he was bitter he had no choice but to play along with it all. The vitae in his veins—LaCroix’s, to be precise—kept him young, made him strong and resilient, but only so long as it was in his veins. Mercurio was almost sixty, and he’d rather not start looking it any time soon. He waited as long as he dared, maybe about ninety seconds, before clearing his throat.</p><p>LaCroix stopped glaring at the streets below, stopped running through whatever horror show he was plotting, and looked up. He seemed surprised to see Mercurio was still there.</p><p>Mercurio’s expression was something between a grimace and a smile. “It’s, uh… that time of the month, remember?”</p><p>LaCroix glanced to his massive antique wood desk, at the monogrammed leather blotter that had nothing on it a few scattered envelopes and a letter opener shaped like an ankh. He frowned. “Ah, yes. I suppose it slipped my mind.”</p><p>“I can step out for a second if you—”</p><p>But LaCroix was already rolling back the cuff of one sleeve. “No need. Come here.”</p><p>Mercurio was stunned. Not since those early, rocky nights, when he was all but press-ganged into LaCroix’s service, had he drank straight from the vein. But that was decades ago, and the blood bond between them was so strong that all LaCroix had to do was speak and he obeyed. Mercurio’s legs moved on their own accord. In the next moment he was right by his master’s side like a faithful hound, pulse thundering in excitement as LaCroix drew the letter opener up to the marble pale flesh of his wrist. He paused before cutting it open, met Mercurio’s eyes, and scowled. “Don’t get used to this.”</p><p>LaCroix’s fangs were showing and his pupils were dilated. The trouble with the bond was it worked both ways, and at close range that could get dicey. Mercurio’s excitement was echoing back on LaCroix like someone strumming a taut wire. This was why LaCroix preferred to leave vitae for Mercurio in a cup that he took and consumed out of sight. Drinking vitae straight off tap could be a very intimate act, almost as much the act of vampire feeding—or the kiss. Mercurio hated that term the most. He also hated being an emergency blood bag as well as a retainer, but this time he was receiving, not giving.</p><p>LaCroix muttered something in French that was probably obscene—but the only swear Mercurio knew was <em>merde</em>, and it didn’t include that—and opened his wrist. Dark blood oozed sluggishly from the wound. He looked away from Mercurio as he held it out. “Hurry up, then. I have a public execution to plan.”</p><p>After so many years slurping the stuff out of a cup, Mercurio wasn’t even sure how to approach an open vein. Luckily LaCroix’s lack of a heartbeat meant the flow only went with gravity. Mercurio settled for kneeling and taking LaCroix’s wrist at an angle, as much to avoid making a mess as to keep a single drop from escaping. He could feel LaCroix’s distant amusement at his consideration, and it was a shock to both of them to be reminded that in that moment they were bound more closely than ever. </p><p>Mercurio wondered if LaCroix’s taste for wounded war veterans flavored his blood somehow. He remembered LaCroix saying something about ‘essence’ once, but as he tried to recall what that entailed Mercurio instead flashed on a memory that wasn’t his. He was on his back, staring up at an overcast sky, tears in his eyes from pain. The stench of gunpowder and worse stung his nostrils. He was certain he was going to die—the terror felt very real to Mercurio as it burned in the back of his throat—until a blurry face swam into view and rough hands pawed at his neck to feel for a pulse. A distant voice called for a stretcher and—</p><p>LaCroix roughly pushed Mercurio away. “That’s quite enough.” </p><p>Mercurio fell back against the desk. The cut on LaCroix’s wrist was already closed.</p><p>“Yeah. Right. Sorry.” Mercurio croaked, struggling to come back to the present and his own thoughts. LaCroix stared at him, silently daring him to comment on what just happened. Did he know? Was the flashback shared? Maybe it was just the indignity of opening himself up like that—figuratively and literally.</p><p>Yeah, probably. </p><p>Mercurio smoothed out his suit jacket. Back to the usual wise guy act. “You want I should get the word out about Elysium?”</p><p>“The Sheriff will handle that,” LaCroix replied. “He’ll make <em>quite</em> certain attendance is mandatory. Meanwhile, I want you to focus on what we discussed before, and everything should fall nicely back into place afterwards. You have a connection, I trust?”</p><p>Mercurio puffed up. “I got all the connections, boss.”</p><p>“Then go.”</p><p>Mercurio nodded, turned smartly on his heel, and headed for the elevator. He was three steps away when LaCroix called his name, freezing Mercurio in his tracks. He couldn’t so much as look over his shoulder.</p><p>“We’ve… That is to say, <em>you’ve</em> worked for me for quite some time now, haven’t you?”</p><p>“Been about thirty years, yeah.”</p><p>Not that it was much to a vampire as old as LaCroix, Mercurio silently added.</p><p>“I see.” An awkward pause followed. “I don’t keep many ghouls, as you’re well aware. I find it…” another long pause. It wasn’t like LaCroix to have trouble with words. “It’s simply easier to pose as a mundane employer, you understand.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.” Mercurio glanced over his shoulder. LaCroix had his back to him and was staring out the window once more. Figured. “I get it. We kinda got thrust together, circumstances bein’ what they were and all that.”</p><p>He didn’t need to say they were both fleeing west for different reasons back when they met.</p><p>“Yes, well,” LaCroix brusquely seized hold of the conversation and yanked it away from that unpleasant trip down memory lane. “Your service through the years has been quite… <em>satisfactory</em>. Carry on.”</p><p>Mercurio smiled to himself as he hit the call button for the elevator. It was the closest he was going to get to a pat on the back.</p><p>“Oh, and one more thing.”</p><p>Mercurio had only just stepped into the elevator. He turned to find LaCroix facing him once more. The look in his master’s eyes rooted him in place. Mercurio suddenly felt like they were nose to nose, not several yards apart.</p><p>“If you <em>ever</em> fail me,” LaCroix said, his voice like ice. “Thirty years, a hundred years, I don’t care how long it’s been, that will be the <em>end</em>. Do you understand? Failure will <em>not</em> be tolerated.”</p><p>Mercurio nodded stiffly.</p><p>“Good.”</p><p>The elevator doors slid closed. It was some time before Mercurio remembered he still had to press a button to make it actually move. Outside of LaCroix’s presence, the resonance between them stopped, but he just knew LaCroix was aware of his dismay—just like he was pretty damn sure LaCroix got grim satisfaction out of putting Mercurio back in his place. </p><p>The long ride down at least gave him plenty of time to get it together.</p><p>Thinking he could ever get chummy with the boss was ridiculous, but Mercurio always got funny ideas right after a vitae fix. No matter what lies the blood bond whispered, they would never be friends, never be anything but master and servant—or regnant and thrall, ugh—so he better just suck it up and focus on his job. That is, he better focus on not fucking everything up.</p><p>Sure, no pressure.</p><p>As the elevator arrived at the ground floor, Mercurio smacked both cheeks, wiped his eyes, and marched out like the good little soldier he was.</p><p>After all, that was another reason why LaCroix chose him. Mercurio knew from the fact he counted as feeding material that a scarred mafia soldier like him counted as a wounded war veteran in LaCroix’s books.</p><p>What Mercurio felt towards his master wasn’t real love, he had to keep telling himself that. Loving the wrong guy got him run out of New York years before, and as LaCroix’s ghoul there was nowhere else for him to go besides into a chum bucket.</p><p>“So don’t fuck up,” he muttered to himself in the privacy of his car. “And maybe you’ll live to see sixty this year.”</p><p>Easier said than done, but it was already October. He doubted LaCroix even knew his birthday was in a few days, much less cared. He never marked the occasion before. Hell, last year Mercurio got to celebrate by disposing of bodies.</p><p>Such was his life.</p><p>Still better than most ghouls, he supposed, but not by much.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Interlude I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It’s the Anarchs!</p><p>And Anatole.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>How’d the trial go, you ask? Well...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What a load of bullshit,” Damsel hissed. “Makin’ us come down here for a fuckin’ glorified snuff show.”</p><p>“That’s the Camarilla for you,” Skelter said darkly. “Gotta remind everybody who’s in charge.”</p><p>They were filing out of the Nocturne Theater at the back of the small crowd, giving all the Ivory Tower capes plenty of room to go on ahead of them. The feeling of disdain was mutual.</p><p>“Fuck that,” Damsel snapped. “Nines is the one in charge of Downtown. Right, Nines?”</p><p>Nines said nothing. He was staring hard at the thick carpeted floor of the hallway as he walked with his coterie, not seeming to hear them at all. </p><p>Damsel smacked his arm. “Nines?”</p><p>Nines stopped. He blinked several times and frowned.</p><p>“What’s up with you?” Skelter asked. “You’ve been out of it ever since the Sheriff offed...” He looked to Damsel. “What were their names again?”</p><p>She scoffed. “You think I was payin’ attention to anything Frenchie was jerkin’ himself off about? Hell no. Ask Jack, he probably knows.” She glanced around and frowned. “Wherever the hell he went.”</p><p>Skelter shook his head. A quick look around showed they were the only ones left in the hallway, perhaps even the entire theater. Nobody wanted to stick around after watching two licks executed. “He probably ducked out the back.”</p><p>“Man, we shoulda done that.” Damsel folded her arms petulantly. “This hallway reeks of perfume and Nos.”</p><p>“Stop talking and you won’t smell it.”</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>“I’m just sayin’ you only breathe when you talk, for fuck’s sake.”</p><p>“Oh. Right.”</p><p>Finally, Nines spoke. “I wanted to say something back there.” He sounded distant to Skelter, almost shellshocked. “I wanted to stand up and scream at that bastard LaCroix, but I couldn’t.” The anguished look on his face deeply disturbed both Damsel and Skelter. “I just... couldn’t. What the fuck is wrong with me?”</p><p>Skelter gave Damsel a look of warning. She sneered at him, flashing fangs to show she wasn’t going to say anything about Nines’s strange behavior anyway, before Skelter stepped forward and put a comforting hand on Nines’s shoulder.</p><p>“It’s probably best that you didn’t, man,” Skelter said. “We’d only end up on LaCroix’s shit list, and then he’d probably still kill the fledgling just to rub it in.”</p><p>“We don’t know that for certain,” Nines retorted. “He might’ve played the mercy angle as a political tactic.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, he didn’t,” Damsel snapped. “And they’re both dead. No crying over spilt blood. Can we go now?”</p><p>Skelter gave her a nasty look.</p><p>“Christ!” Damsel threw her hands up. “It’s not like they were on our side! I’m not gonna get torn up about a couple of random dead licks even if the song and dance leadin’ up to it was fuckin’ sick, okay?” She put her hands on her hips. “We gotta focus on our own damn problems!”</p><p>Nines nodded, some of his resolve coming back at last. “You’re right.”</p><p>“Damn straight!”</p><p>He put a hand on Damsel’s head, pushing her beret down so it covered her eyes. “Just don’t get too full of yourself, okay?”</p><p>Damsel snarled and yanked her hat off to fix it. “As if I could ever come close to that fuckin’ blue blood asshole!” </p><p>Nines laughed and took the lead, continuing out into the street. </p><p>A figure slipped out the door behind them, completely unnoticed, and silently watched them go. </p><p>He was not at all surprised when a car careened around corner and blocked the way, nor when someone opened fire from within. </p><p>The Anarchs were ready and eager to meet the attackers head on, whoever they might be, but the unseen figure didn’t care enough to stick around and watch the fight. He already knew the outcome. </p><p>All that mattered was the Baron of Numbers did as commanded, which was nothing, so that Anatole might continue unimpeded by the mewling of other, unwanted whelps. For a moment Anatole was almost afraid the Baron’s will was such that he might remember, but no.</p><p>Anatole knew Beckett would get his message immediately, when the fast approaching time came to send it—the only uncertainty was how long before he deigned to respond.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Confession Time: I haven’t actually played the game in years, but I did play it waaaaay too much back in the day, so hopefully I’m getting these characterizations right just by memory alone.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Breakdown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mercurio encounters Anatole on a dark road.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go! Time to earn that graphic depictions of violence tag!</p><p>Chapter Specific CW: mentions of drug use, homophobia/gay panic (the homophobe in question doesn’t survive long), graphic violence, car crash</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The guy guarding the fence outside the beach house was shirtless, wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and sneakers, but that was about what Mercurio expected. His research showed they were a bunch of surfers who cooked and dealt whatever they could get their hands on so the 9 to 5 didn’t harsh on catching waves, or whatever the hell they said these days. Slightly safer than robbing banks in US President masks, he supposed. The point was, they were Mercurio’s only option for scoring the kind of explosives he needed fast. Beggars, etcetera.</p><p>The guard flicked his cigarette away and peeled himself off the lamppost he was leaning against as Mercurio approached. He looked Mercurio over and snorted at what he was wearing, as if he had any right to judge.</p><p>“You the guy?”</p><p>“Yeah. Name’s Mercurio.”</p><p>“That your <em>real</em> name?”</p><p>Mercurio rolled his eyes. “Does it really matter? You need my Social for this transaction or somethin’?”</p><p>Sure, the Social Mercurio recently had to switch out again because he’d hit that point where no amount of clean living or plastic surgery could explain why he looked so good for his age—and he <em>still</em> looked older than most Kindred, who got to be frozen in their twenties forever. Fuckers. </p><p>But hey, LaCroix didn’t keep him around for his thirty-something mafioso good looks, it was because he did shit like this without complaint.</p><p>Mercurio raised his hands as the guard stepped forward to pat him down. Much as he wanted to hide a piece, he couldn’t risk souring the deal. Pity, because the frisk was sloppy and brief. Mercurio’s eyes drifted downward, looking for a gun stuck inadvisably down the band of the guard’s low rise jeans, but there was nothing.</p><p>An unarmed guard at the gate? Mercurio found that hard to believe. But maybe this was just the Santa Monica drug business for you—everything chill. Literally. 68 fucking degrees at night and everything still wet from rain that sent everyone in the LA County area into a mild panic all through the day. Mercurio hated it. He missed recognizable seasons.</p><p>“What’re you lookin’ at?!”</p><p>Shit. Mercurio dropped his hands as the guard hiked his pants up a little more. Not that Mercurio was even interested, but insecure straight guys always assumed the worst.</p><p>“My mind wandered,” Mercurio answered truthfully. “We good? I just wanna conclude my business with Dennis and get outta here. Night’s young. I got places to be.”</p><p>The guard glowered at him just long enough that Mercurio started to worry before finally sniffing and wiping his nose. His pupils were dilated, too. Should’ve known they’d be dipping into their own product. Mercurio idly wondered if it was meth or cocaine. </p><p>“Yeah, you’re good,” the guard said at last. “Go on in.”</p><p>“Thanks, buddy.” Mercurio tipped him a wry salute and started toward the front porch of the beach house. There were brightly colored towels draped over the railing to dry. God, what a pedestrian operation. Mercurio couldn’t believe it either when he got the address.</p><p>“Hey,” the guard called. “One more thing!”</p><p>Mercurio turned, seized by a horrible feeling of deja vu at the words, just in time to see the baseball bat coming right for his face. The hollow thwack of it connecting echoed through the yard as Mercurio was knocked into the ground.</p><p>Lights danced in front of his eyes, the only stars Mercurio was ever gonna see in the sky over the city. What a bad fucking joke. </p><p>The guard hovered into Mercurio’s wobbling field of view and spat in his face. “I ain’t your buddy, <em>pal</em>.”</p><p>If Mercurio were a normal mortal, that probably would’ve been all she wrote. Knocked out from a single cheap shot, a shitty Dane Cook quote his last conscious memory.</p><p>But he wasn’t.</p><p>He was only stunned for a moment. The fresh vitae in his system gave him unnatural resilience, and no fucking way was gonna go down that easy.</p><p>“The fuck?!”</p><p>Mercurio grabbed the guard by the ragged cuff of his jeans and pulled, knocking him off balance. The bat flew from the guard’s hands as he fell, leaving him unarmed and on Mercurio’s level. He rammed his elbow hard into the precious package the guard was so concerned about, leaving him writhing on the ground cupping his groin as Mercurio staggered to his feet. His head still hurt like a bitch and the ground felt like it was shifting under his feet, but he’d deal.</p><p>“Brian!” Somebody yelled, the only warning Mercurio got before they opened fire.</p><p>The bullet struck Mercurio high in the arm. The pain was instant, hot and stinging, while his swollen eye was a dull throb. Not the first time he’d been shot, but it never got easier. Mercurio’s hand automatically went to the wound on instinct. More people were crowding around the front porch, a bunch of guys in hoodies—the rest of Dennis’s crew. </p><p>“You fucking idiot,” one of the newcomers yelled, yanking the gun out of the shooter’s hands. “Dennis said no more guns!”</p><p>“I thought that was just inside! Cause of the chemicals!”</p><p>“Why would—ugh!” The more logical one tossed the gun aside. “Just c’mon! He’s getting away!”</p><p>Damn right he was, because discretion was the better part of valor, and no fucking way was he taking on a whole gang with a bullet in his arm.</p><p>Mercurio had a head start, but the pricks were mad and hopped up on god knew what. If he could just make it back to his car—parked a short distance down the road because he didn’t need a bunch of third rate surfer junkies getting his plates, much less their grimy hands on it—he could get one of his guns and even the odds. He was a good enough shot he could take them out in no time.</p><p>If he could just make it that far. A ‘short distance’ suddenly felt like miles when dealing with a head injury, a bullet wound, and the whole crew chasing after him like a pack of rabid dogs. </p><p>Mercurio didn’t dare look back, but he knew they were close. He could hear one of the junkies gaining, but he sure as hell didn’t expect to suddenly get bodied into the ground the way he did. All the air went out of him as both the guy’s feet slammed into his back, knocking Mercurio face-first into the road.</p><p>“Did you see that?” The asshole who took him down crowed as he climbed off. “Motherfuckin’ flying jump kick, bitches! That is some straight up Tekken shit right there!”</p><p>Footsteps crunched on the gravel as the others caught up.</p><p>“Yeah, great, those strip mall karate lessons finally paid off.”</p><p>“Fuck you, man, it was taekwondo!”</p><p>Someone rolled Mercurio over. He gasped and wheezed, struggling to get air back in his lungs as the crew crowded around him.</p><p>“What’ll we do with him?”</p><p>Mercurio couldn’t focus on who was speaking.</p><p>“Do you really gotta ask?”</p><p>“Dibs on the ring!” Someone else grabbed his hand and yanked it off his finger. Mercurio made a feeble attempt at lashing out, even managed to clip the guy, but it was no use. </p><p>“Motherfucker!”</p><p>The swift punch to the face in retaliation marked the beginning of the beatdown. </p><p>All Mercurio could do was curl up and focus on not blacking out, trust in the vitae to keep him together, and play dead after an appropriate point, which was too damn easy. The shit stains pawed through his clothes, stripping him of anything valuable—they didn’t think his necklace worth anything, thank Christ—before tossing him into the scrub brush off the side of the road. Lucky for him they considered it far enough away from the beach house, and the road itself remote enough, to be safe to leave a body. Idiots. After agreeing coyotes and seagulls would probably take care of the rest, they left. </p><p>The sheer fucking indignity of getting beaten half to death by such a clown show kept Mercurio from slipping out of consciousness right there and then.</p><p>The rain started up again, making even more of a mess of him while helpfully washing away the blood trail he was leaving as he crawled the remaining distance back to his car. Mercurio got the door open on the second try, though it being a classic two door made it a monumental struggle to get inside. The vision in his good eye was going in and out by the time he got it started, and he could only manage one hand on the steering wheel while the other curled limply around his stomach, but it wasn’t that far back to his place. </p><p>He could make it. </p><p>His phone rang as he struggled to get the car in gear. He had a pretty good idea who it was, but there was no way he could answer.</p><p>“Sorry, boss,” Mercurio muttered as the call went to voice mail. “I’ll have to get back to you later.”</p><p>Like when he wasn’t actively dying.</p><p>He felt like he was doing a pretty good job keeping the car in the right lane, all things considered. The crumbling road leading up the the beach house was a practically deserted straight shot lined with nothing but scrub and telephone poles, plenty of room to practice for when he got closer to Santa Monica proper. Last thing he needed was cops pulling him over in his condition.</p><p>“You got this,” Mercurio said to himself. It was better than driving in silence with the pain. The talk show droning on the radio didn’t really count. In his condition it was all just noise. He pounded the steering wheel and the car swerved a little. “<em>C’mon</em>, you got this!”</p><p>All he had to do was make it back home, call in a favor with a certain back-alley doctor to get patched up, then come back loaded for bear to take what he was owed with interest. They’d never see it coming.</p><p>Easy. </p><p>LaCroix would never have to know about the little curb-stomping hiccup.</p><p>Mercurio almost had himself believing it until a man appeared in the middle of the goddamn road.</p><p>“Shit!”</p><p>People always talk about the reason for their car accidents ‘coming out of nowhere,’ but even as fucked up as Mercurio was, he was certain the man wasn’t standing there a second ago.</p><p>The man was tall and thin, with pale skin and long blonde hair that hung around a army surplus coat and jeans. He looked like a bum to Mercurio, or one of those hipster drifter types that might as well be bums, but his sudden appearance and the pallor of his skin in the headlights gave his true nature away pretty damn quick. </p><p>The Kindred stood with his hands in his pockets, showing no fear at the car barreling towards him. He just <em>stared</em>. There was no way he could see Mercurio through the glare of the headlights, but it felt like he was looking directly at him nevertheless. The Kindred had unnervingly pale blue eyes.</p><p>Mercurio swerved away, losing the impromptu game of chicken. The car skidded off the road and, with a screech of tires and a final crunch of metal, collided with a telephone pole.</p><p>Another problem with classic cars—no airbags. Mercurio was distantly aware of the constant drone of the car horn as the door opened. The light hurt. Everything hurt. How the fuck was he still not dead?</p><p>The Kindred said something in French, sounding amused, and all Mercurio could think as he teetered on the brink of consciousness was ‘oh god, not another one.’</p><p>With no further explanation or introduction, the Kindred bit him—right in the neck, classic style. The initial sting of fear and outrage was quickly chased away by the wave of ecstasy that always accompanied the kiss. Mercurio had almost forgotten what it was like. He groaned as all the pain of his injuries melted away. His pulse thundered in his ears, already weak and quickly getting weaker, and he found it hard to care even as it slowed to a stop.</p><p>It was over quick. There wasn’t much to take to drag him past the brink. LaCroix would be pissed. Mercurio let his master down. That was his only regret.</p><p>The Kindred pulled away. His face was a pale blur hovering in front of Mercurio’s face, impossible to focus on as he slipped away.</p><p>“I am so very sorry.”</p><p>At least he had the decency to utter those last words so Mercurio could understand.</p><p>Blood touched his lips, still warm from being stolen. Swallowing was a reflex—and a mistake.</p>
<hr/><p>Mercurio was falling. Down, down, into a fathomless pool of blood. He kicked and fought against it, but something reached up and pulled him down. He tried to scream, but the sound was swallowed by a cacophony of whispers, laughter, and sobs. The noise was in him, choking him, drowning him, becoming part of him.</p><p>Something gave way underneath him, dumping him on a scene painted solely in lurid shades of red. A woman writhed atop a silhouetted man strapped to a heart-sharped bed. She stopped and turned to look at Mercurio, but her face was hidden by a white, doll-like porcelain mask. A fresh puddle of blood opened beneath Mercurio as the masked woman laughed, cutting off the sound of her mad delight as it swallowed him.</p><p>He was spat out in a dark mansion. An old man sat alone in a high backed chair. Shadows stretched toward it like grasping fingers. A music box played a slow dance tune somewhere in the distance, echoing through the empty, cavernous halls. The old man lifted his head as if it took great effort, murmured, “Another? Hmph.” And collapsed back into indifference as Mercurio was sucked away once again.</p><p>Outside at last, but everything was still red. Blood fell from the sky in the place of rain. A wolf stood on a clifftop overlooking... it didn’t matter, the distance between them instantly closed, bringing them eye to glowing eye.</p><p>A phone rang.</p><p>The wolf knew Mercurio’s scent. Familiar scent. Beloved scent. Hated scent. Nearly lost scent. But the bearer was wrong.</p><p>The phone rang again.</p><p>The wolf snarled.</p><p>The phone at last snapped Mercurio back to reality.</p><p>He was back at the beach house—<em>inside</em> the beach house, and blood was everywhere. It was on the walls, on the TV still paused on a video game, on <em>him</em>, and the damn phone was still ringing.</p><p>Mercurio answered. It was <em>his</em> cell phone, after all.</p><p>“Where the devil have you been?!” His master’s voice. LaCroix was furious. “I’ve been calling you all night!”</p><p>The phone nearly slid from Mercurio’s blood-slick hand as he debated how to answer. He wiped off his other hand as best he could and transferred it over. “Uh... negotiations broke down a little over here, but it’s all under control now.”</p><p>Ha.</p><p>“Did you at least get the package?”</p><p>No question of what happened, or if Mercurio was okay, just straight back to business. Typical.</p><p>“Yeah.” Mercurio couldn’t stop a hysterical little chuckle from escaping. LaCroix really had no idea. “I got it alright.”</p><p>And more. So much fucking more.</p><p>“Are you... are you <em>high?”</em></p><p>“Maybe a little,” Mercurio admitted. “The kinda place I had to go, it’s hard not to inhale something secondhand.”</p><p>Except it wasn’t from breathing it in, unfortunately. The blood in his system vibrated with a cocktail of substances in high enough quantities to kill a normal mortal. Except he wasn’t even remotely close to that now. Mercurio put his free hand to his forehead, trying not to laugh again. If he did that he might start crying. Or screaming.</p><p>LaCroix muttered something in French. Mercurio shivered as a whisper in his ear helpfully told him the words meant ‘perhaps that was it.’</p><p>Mercurio dragged his hand down his face, smearing more blood across it. So LaCroix <em>did</em> suspect something was up. The terror of getting found out superseded whatever Mercurio felt about his condition or the helpful disembodied translation.</p><p>“I’m fine,” he said, maybe a little too forcefully. He tried dialing it back a notch. “It’s cool. I got this. The stuff, I mean.”</p><p>Got embraced and killed a bunch of guys while hallucinating, too. No big deal.</p><p>Mercurio bit his lip to keep from saying that aloud. The feeling of his brand new fangs digging in served as a painful reminder this was all very real. Hard to make them go away with all the blood splattered everywhere. No use trying to deny what happened with the proof all around him, either. </p><p>LaCroix made an aggrieved noise on the other end of the line. “Alright, good. I need you to move up our plans with the warehouse. Elysium was attacked—“</p><p>“Shit! Are you alright?” </p><p>Mercurio cringed hard, but the words were already out of his mouth. Good to know the goddamn blood bond was still there and making him feel things.</p><p>“I’m fine,” LaCroix snapped. “The Sheriff handled everything in short order, but we must retaliate. These constant affronts to my domain from all sides <em>cannot</em> go unanswered.”</p><p>“Right you are, boss.”</p><p>LaCroix was thankfully too worked up to catch the note of despair in Mercurio’s voice. He seriously doubted the mystery Kindred who did the deed asked permission first. Which meant Mercurio’s days—no, nights—were probably numbered.</p><p>“How soon can you have it done?”</p><p>Unless...</p><p>“I gotta see a guy about a way in first, but... few days, maybe? Not long.”</p><p>If he could prove he was still useful, maybe LaCroix would overlook everything else.</p><p>“Good,” LaCroix said. “I don’t want to hear back from you until it’s done.”</p><p>LaCroix hung up, leaving Mercurio standing alone in the bloody mess he still had to clean up.</p><p>“This is insane,” he said to no one in particular.</p><p>He heard laughter echoing from nowhere—<em>inside</em> his head. Maybe the drugs in his system were exacerbating things, but he knew what he saw just after he was embraced. He could put two and two together, and fuck if he didn’t hate what it added up to concerning his new state of being.</p><p>Mercurio flopped onto the couch, right next to the one of dead bodies of his own making, and buried his head in his hands.</p><p>“<em>I’m</em> insane,” he whispered.</p><p>Of all the clans for him to get embraced into, it just had to be Malkavian.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>The fun thing with a veteran ghoul turned fledgling is you skip a lot of the ‘what’s happened to me’ and go directly to ‘ah, shit.’</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Cleanup</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mercurio picks up the pieces and then blows them up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>If you were expecting Mercurio to be like the Malkavian fledgling in Bloodlines, this is the part where I disappoint you. He’s his own crazy guy.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The nagging feeling of being watched ruined Mercurio’s little pity party on the couch. He looked to his left, past his friend the corpse, who almost seemed to be sleeping—so long as you didn’t look too closely at the stains on his hoodie, or at the angle of his neck. </p><p>The big picture window dominating the wall was somehow intact despite all the carnage, yet there was nothing to see outside but the empty yard, the white-washed picket fence, and the lamp post the guard was leaning against when Mercurio first arrived. The guard was on the floor face down behind the couch now. There were more bodies in the kitchen.</p><p>With all the beach house’s occupants dead, it was so quiet the buzz of the TV seemed incredibly loud even with the volume on mute. There was something in the hum of the screen, growing steadily louder as Mercurio sat there—a chorus of whispers. He could possibly make out what they were saying if he listened hard enough.</p><p>Mercurio stood and turned the TV and its attached video game system off. He balled his fists, resisting the urge to throw the makeshift entertainment system of cinderblocks and plywood out the window.</p><p>There still wasn’t true silence in the room. The rhythmic sound of the waves was ever-present. No shutting off nature. Weird to think he could walk into the ocean right now and just keep going without drowning, not that it would solve any of his problems—aside from one. The blood all over him was drying, becoming unpleasantly sticky. Mercurio wasn’t sure how he made such a mess of the place with just his teeth and hands, but then he didn’t really want to know, either. </p><p>He wanted revenge, he got it in spades—a lot faster than expected, too.</p><p>“Hurray,” Mercurio said without enthusiasm.</p><p>Nothing left but to clean up his own damn mess.</p><p>He started by pulling the blinds—they came down crooked because the pull-string itself was fucked up, but whatever—which banished that feeling of being watched, and dragged the bodies into more natural positions. Brian the topless guard, the only crew member whose name he knew, joined the guy on the couch. The ones in the kitchen were dragged back to their hastily abandoned poker game. Dennis, leader of the crew and easily identified by being the only one with any sense of style, could just stay by the stove because he was heavy and Mercurio didn’t want to tempt fate by burning blood just to move him to the back room he was supposed to receive Mercurio in before everything went to hell.</p><p>Mercurio checked through every other  room of the house for anything worth taking, which wasn’t anything he could carry, then doubled back and checked again. He found his ring easily enough in the kitchen, but where the hell was his money? It hit him on a third anxious circuit of the house—the vent by the washer and dryer. He found his money clip plus a little extra back there. He made another trip around the house just to adjust the bodies a little and make absolutely certain he didn’t miss anything. The blood everywhere out front irked him, but it wouldn’t matter much when everything went up in smoke. Happened all the time with these shoddy cook houses. Tragic, but predictable.</p><p>Before he could start setting up the explosion, he needed to wash up. Mercurio turned on the light to the bathroom and recoiled at the sight that greeted him. No blood, just a hell of a lot of grime and body hair clippings everywhere. Reminded him of the bad old days forced to go to ground with a bunch of other guys in the family, but at least one person had the decency to clean up after everyone a little. Not him, but still.</p><p>“Long as the water works,” he grumbled, which it did. Mercurio avoided looking in the mirror as he stripped, leaving his bloody clothes in pile under the sink with his phone balanced on top, and stepped in under the scalding hot spray of water. He pulled the curtain closed behind him and stared at his feet as the blood washed down the drain.</p><p>So that was a frenzy. </p><p>Except he was pretty sure most Kindred remembered some kind of lead-up to it—hunger, fire, anger, fear, <em>something</em>. Mercurio checked his waterproof Swiss watch. He’d lost about two hours. Still a fair amount of time left before sunrise, but not knowing exactly what happened in that time bothered him. A lot. The evidence was right outside the bathroom door, but he felt like going back to the beach house and ripping apart everyone inside wouldn’t take <em>that</em> long. What about his sire? Where was he? What about what Mercurio saw when he died? Were visions something that just happened with all Malks? Fuck, what about his car? What if it was completely totaled? </p><p>Mercurio braced himself against the shower wall. His agitation was making the voices in his head flare up again. Whispers. Conversations. Laughing. Sobbing. Screaming. None of it was meant for him, but he was still a party to it. Like the ocean noise just outside the beach house, it was always there, almost forgotten as his own thoughts drowned it out, but once again it flipped things around and was drowning him instead. </p><p>Panic gripped him. There was too much noise inside his head, filling it to bursting. The Beast stirred from its blood-glutted slumber, threatening to rise again if he didn’t get it together.</p><p>“Shut up!” Mercurio rammed his head against the tiles. “Shut up! Shut up! Shut up!”</p><p>He punctuated every sentence by doing it again, but it didn’t help. The tiles cracked, he drew more blood, and the water washed it away like all the rest. Mercurio fell back against the opposite side of the shower, feeling hopeless and drained.</p><p>No way could this work. Mercurio couldn’t fucking pretend he was still all there, much less useful. LaCroix was gonna kill him for sure.</p><p>The cacophony faded as one voice rose above the rest—a message meant only for him.</p><p>
  <em>It will be alright.</em>
</p><p>Mercurio didn’t recognize the voice, but then he didn’t know any of the chorus in his head. The one reaching out to him sounded like it should be narrating a BBC history documentary. Small comfort, that.</p><p>Mercurio shut off the water. </p><p>“Wish I believed you, professor voice inside my head,” he whispered. He didn’t know who he was fooling by keeping his voice down, he was still talking to himself like a lunatic.</p><p>Mercurio ran his fingers down the cracks he made in the shower tiles before stepping out and grabbing the towel off the rack. Thankfully it was clean, unlike the rest of the bathroom.</p><p>He wiped the fog off the mirror and finally looked at his reflection. It wasn’t as bad as he expected. At some point in that lost time he used some of that junkie blood he gorged himself on to heal the worst of the damage they did to him. His left eye was no longer swollen, and no broken ribs were poking out, so that was something. Mercurio turned his face from side to side and frowned. The bathroom’s fluorescent lighting really showed how pale he was now, but something seemed off about his eyes, too. Were they always that weird shade of blue?</p><p>“Fuck it,” he concluded. “You got arson to commit, bucko.”</p><p>He dried off, wrapped his ruined clothes up in the towel, and stepped out of the bathroom. There were clean clothes in the dryer—surprise, surprise, more fucking jeans, hoodies, and t-shirts, all thrown together without any concern for care instructions—and Mercurio threw on something that fit without worrying too much about how he looked. He found a pair of shoes near the back door. A little small, but they’d have to do, and sitting on the table right next to the door was the astrolite that started the whole mess. It was just in a repurposed plastic container with a simple digital timer and some instructions written on notebook paper. Mercurio stared at it for a long time, wondering if he’d been played, but once he laid his hands on the thing he was filled with the horrible, inexplicable certainty it would do the job.</p><p>He separated the explosive trigger from the device, carefully wrapped it in another towel from the laundry room, and stashed it with his clothes and money in a duffel bag. He moved to the kitchen, careful about of the blood after all the time he spent in the shower.</p><p>Then came the tricky part.</p><p>Mercurio picked an engraved lighter off the kitchen table. He dreaded this bit, having seen first hand how cagey Kindred got around open flames.</p><p>“Okay,” he said. “No big deal, just a teeny, tiny fire.”</p><p>Like the Beast would listen. As soon as the spark caught Mercurio felt the primal fear of destruction well up inside him. The urge to drop it and flee was there, but he resisted. It screamed at him the entire time he lit a cigarette from a pack on the table and carefully balanced it on a nearby ashtray. Kindred who made a habit of smoking were clearly showing off.</p><p>Mercurio stepped back. It looked like everybody passed out over their game of cards. Good enough. Once investigators found the wreckage of the lab that’d be it, but Mercurio didn’t know enough about chemistry to set that particular chain reaction up. He was just going to have to do things the old fashioned way—turning on the gas and making a break for it. </p><p>He grabbed the duffel bag and went out the back. The feeling of being watched was gone, maybe the result of the drugs in his system finally burning off. He was gonna have to be careful who he fed from in the future. His mind buzzed with enough bullshit without throwing other substances into the mix. He debated going back to check on his car, but decided to get as far away from the house as possible before it blew.</p><p>The beach access steps steps just off the property were enclosed in a chain link fence for safety’s sake—no jumping the last few flights, you were stuck winding around until the gate at the very bottom of the cliff.</p><p>The Thin Bloods were out again, all gathered around a bonfire on the beach and listening to some mournful rock song blasting from a boom box. Mercurio gave them a wide berth, not just because he was in no mood to make new friends, but because the Beast gave him enough trouble over a cigarette lighter, never mind a goddamn roaring fire.</p><p>He was almost to the pedestrian tunnel when one of the group broke away from the group and ran up to him. </p><p>“Wait!”</p><p>Mercurio paused at the mouth of the tunnel, keeping his head down and his hands in his pockets. With the hood up, maybe he could be mistaken for one of the beach house crew. </p><p>The Thin Blood was a dark haired woman in a gold snakeskin jacket. He didn’t know any of them by name, all he knew was Kindred didn’t take kindly to their mere existence, and now he was suddenly boosted above them on the pecking order just by sheer virtue of being Kindred and having a clan.</p><p>“What?” Mercurio grunted, avoiding eye contact out of sheer habit. “I don’t got any money.”</p><p>“He has not abandoned you,” the woman said. “The one who made you—unlike the one who made me this way.”</p><p>“Yeah?” Mercurio snarled. “Then where the fuck is he?”</p><p>Only after he spoke did he wonder about how she could possibly know about him or his sire.</p><p>The woman frowned. “I... I do not know.” Her eyes darted around nervously. “The way he moves is... strange. Mysterious.”</p><p>“Heh! You make him sound like god.”</p><p>“No.” She relaxed somewhat, finally certain about something again, and looked up at the overcast sky. “But he does believe in god. He has always had faith.”</p><p>The beach house exploded. A few of the Thin Bloods around the camp fire screamed. The woman just looked on as a second explosion marked the store of chemicals going up, turning the house into a crater and showering the beach with debris.</p><p>“Hey, lady,” Mercurio said, unable to help himself. “You see <em>that</em> coming?”</p><p>“Rosa,” the woman replied, turning her somber gaze back to him. “And there will be others.”</p><p>Mercurio tightened his grip on the duffle bag strap. She was certainly right about that.</p><p>“You and your friends better get out of here,” he said. “Cops’ll be all over soon.”</p><p>Rosa nodded, but the group was already way ahead of him there. While she rejoined them to check for injuries, Mercurio fled up the tunnel and away from the scene of the crime.</p><p>His place wasn’t far, but he felt a twinge of guilt seeing the parking space outside his building unoccupied. It was okay, the ID in the car was fake, with an address all the way across town. Nothing to worry about. He chewed on his lip, wondering if he should do more to insulate himself now that he was Kindred, but he already abused his contacts as a ghoul to ‘test their services’ enough as it was.</p><p>Mercurio circled the block a few times, finding nothing but a mortal—or kine, or whatever—waiting on a tow truck, before doubling back to get his spare key out of the cracked brick in the side of his building. It was getting too late—or rather, too early—for him to be so cautious, but he couldn’t stop himself from making absolutely certain nobody was following him or watching the place.</p><p>It felt like days since he last set foot inside his apartment, not hours. Then again, the last time he was there he was also breathing. Mercurio checked his watch as the door closed behind him. Not long until sunrise. Between his little shower freak out, going back through the beach house, and finally around the block, he’d wasted far more time than he mysteriously lost that night, but Mercurio had to make sure he didn’t miss anything important. He let his guard down with that fucking asshole at the gate and look what happened. Never again.</p><p>Mercurio scowled at the big floor to ceiling windows behind the couch, with their gauzy curtains that did nothing to stop sunlight pouring through, but something else drew his eye to the couch—a folded note.</p><p>The thought that someone or something breaking into his house—no, his <em>haven</em>—in the short time he’d been undead was such a violation that Mercurio had to fight hard against losing it to the Beast right then and there. He bit his lip, not quite hard enough to draw blood with his fully extended fangs, and unfolded the note.</p><p>The handwriting was neat and fancy. Not cursive, but with little flourishes in how the writer formed letters that instantly irritated Mercurio, who only ever managed rushed chicken scratch.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>Took care of your car for you. Business card of the establishment handling the repairs is enclosed. All fees are already paid in full. Apologies that I couldn’t stay to explain in person, but something came up. Rest assured that I am a f—</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>There were a bunch of ink scribbles before the note continued.</p><p></p><blockquote>
  <p>
    <em>I am familiar with your sire and will be in touch.</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Don’t do anything rash,</em>
  </p>
  <p>
    <em>Beckett</em>
  </p>
</blockquote><p>Mercurio folded the note back around the card.</p><p>“Who the hell is Beckett?”</p><p>No time to wonder about that. Dawn was coming. The light through the windows was turning a dangerous shade of gray, and Mercurio needed to be somewhere in the apartment that wouldn’t get him roasted. He moved to his bedroom, where there were blackout curtains to accommodate how much he ended up working nights, but those only shut out the worst of the light. Blatantly false advertising, really. He didn’t want to see how he handled sleeping in a room with indirect sunlight on his very first day as a Kindred. </p><p>That left him two choices—the walk-in closet, or the master bathroom. A brief flashback to his life in 70s New York was all he needed to choose the latter. The irony of the other option alone would kill him. Mercurio dropped the duffle bag on top of the closed toilet and stuffed a towel at the crack in the door just to make sure no light got through. He kicked off his ill-fitting stolen shoes, climbed into the tub, and wondered how long he’d have to wait before daylight broke and he couldn’t stay awake.</p><p>Not long, as it turned out. </p><p>Mercurio was surprised at the feeling that came over him when the sun rose. It was like being weighed down. He had just enough time to laugh about the trouble he used to have sleeping before he was out—completely dead to the world.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>One night down, eternity to go... if he’s lucky. </p><p>Comment if you’re enjoying any of this nonsense! I think I’m finally starting to find my stride with writing again.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Favors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The ball gets rolling. </p><p>The ball is haunted.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In my head Knox is like an unholy mix of Kimmy Schmidt and Jake Peralta.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mercurio ran his fingers around the stones of the necklace for what felt like the thousandth time that night. He couldn’t stop touching it.</p><p>“You sure you like it?” Vinny asked. They were walking side by side—not holding hands, much as they wanted to—through the streets, taking their sweet time getting back home. “I know it looks like some hippie bullshit, but I—”</p><p>“No, it’s cool,” Mercurio said. “I like it.”</p><p>He loved it, loved <em>Vinny</em>, but he was so fucking bad with words sometimes it hurt. They’d already done so much together it didn’t really need to be said, did it? Running around like they did, risking so much, it was basically implied.</p><p>And now the necklace, a very real sign of this thing they had together. Mercurio stared at the thick black and white beads on black cord around his neck, not sure what to do.</p><p>“Say, Vinny—”</p><p>But Vinny was gone when he looked up. The streets were gone. Mercurio turned and found himself standing on the edge of a massive hole in the pavement. His foot knocked loose a small rock that plummeted into the abyss. He watched it fall down a shaft that ran deep—deeper than the subway or anything else known to the millions of people that flowed through the clogged arteries of New York every day.</p><p>Gazing into that seemingly bottomless pit filled Mercurio with dread. Something was there in the fathomless dark, something ancient and hungry. It waited. For what, he didn’t know.</p><p>Mercurio turned away, only to to find himself staring into another pit half a world a way. It wasn’t a yawning abyss waiting to devour like before, it was actively devouring and being devoured. Bodies writhed within it. Those who briefly pulled away from the frenzy of blood and madness were pulled back. The screams and laughter were hauntingly familiar. As Mercurio watched, a new victim was cast in—and he recognized the one who pushed.</p><p>But this wasn’t happening. It already happened. The pits were gone. One filled, the other... <em>scattered</em>. Mercurio knew this. He didn’t know how he knew that much, but he was certain of it. </p><p>His sire, the one who pushed the unknown outsider in to the boiling pit of madness, looked at him with a sad sort of resignation and said, “Another will open in time. You’ll see.”</p><hr/><p>Mercurio opened his eyes.</p><p>“What if I don’t wanna fuckin’ see,” he said to the dark bathroom. “What if I just keep my goddamn eyes closed?”</p><p>The peal of laughter in his head was probably unrelated and just coincidentally timed, but it wasn’t like his petulance was gonna stop the visions. </p><p>“Yeah, fuck you, too.”</p><p>Mercurio was officially past feeling weird talking to thin air. Not a great sign, but fuck it, he was Malkavian. At least he didn’t feel compelled to talk in riddles. For all he knew the ones who did were doing it on purpose to mess with people. He just wished he could get some nice, good old-fashioned face-to-face guidance instead of this fucked-up game of psychic telephone he was stuck playing.</p><p>“Ah, shit.”</p><p>He forgot to charge his phone.</p><p>Mercurio dragged himself out of the bathtub and moved to the bedroom, where the charger was plugged in by his bed. While he waited for the phone to get enough of a charge to turn at least back on, he changed out of the clothes he stole from the beach house and back into something he could stand to wear. He never was a t-shirt and jeans kind of guy, and throwing a hoodie on top of it all just felt incredibly wrong. Once he was back in a suit he felt... well, <em>human</em> wasn’t the right word anymore, but he at least felt like himself again.</p><p>There was always his necklace, of course. No matter what happened, where he was, or what he wore, it was hanging around his neck. Mercurio ran his fingers over the beads, realizing just how many times he must have made that exact same gesture since the 70s, and was jarred out of his thoughts by his phone beeping. It was back on, and multiple messages were waiting. He sat down on the bed so he could leave the phone plugged in as he checked his voicemail.</p><p>One was from Tong, stating Mercurio might be interested in his latest shipment. Sure, maybe, but later. The next was from Knox, and Mercurio preemptively held the phone away from his ear before pressing play.</p><p>“Hey, man! Guess you must be busy doing stuff for the big L. Cool, totally cool. I get that. We should really hang more! Talk shop, y’know? Anyway! My m—<em>employer</em>, heh, wanted me to tell you that it’s a no can do on the whole warehouse thing. Sucks, I know! But seriously! You, me, drinks maybe? I dunno! Call me back! It’s Knox, by the way!”</p><p>Another message from Knox followed. Mercurio hoped like hell it was to clarify about the warehouse thing. He needed Knox’s master to get him inside the Sabbat’s little base of operations to plant the bomb, otherwise the whole plan was fucked. More importantly, Mercurio would be fucked. </p><p>“Hey! <em>Soooo</em>, about those drinks... I don’t mean, like, as a date or whatever. No way! Aw, man, what? Ha! I just mean as two gh—<em>guys</em> in the same line of work who don’t really get to talk about this stuff, y’know? I mean, <em>c’mon</em>, you are totally out of my league, working for LaCroix and stuff. But, like... friends? Maybe?”</p><p>Mercurio pressed a hand to his face as there was yet another message from Knox waiting.</p><p>“Okay! Never mind! Totally out of bounds! Seriously, man, forget it. And I know, I know, you said if I called and it wasn’t work related or an emergency you’d use me for target practice, but you were kidding, right? Call me back!”</p><p>Mercurio pinched the bridge of his nose. There was one last message from Knox to go.</p><p>“Please don’t kill me.” All the volume and cheer was gone from Knox’s voice. He was practically whispering into the phone. “I just... Bertram’s gone into hiding. Didn’t say where. Not like I can find him if he doesn’t wanna be found. I’m not, like, <em>worried</em>-worried. Yet. Cause it’s not close to that time for me, but... I still worry, y’know? Do you ever feel the same about your master?”</p><p>“I wish I fuckin’ didn’t,” Mercurio said to the recording.</p><p>“Heh, see? I’ve got nobody to talk to about this stuff. Except Vandal, I guess. And you know how he is. Anyway! Um... sorry to bother you. Bye.”</p><p>Mercurio called Knox.</p><p>It barely rang once before he picked up.</p><p>“Hey, man!”</p><p>“I’m not gonna kill you,” Mercurio said by way of greeting. “But you <em>seriously</em> need to chill.”</p><p>“Oh, heh, so you got my messages, huh?”</p><p>“Yeah.”</p><p>“Sorry.”</p><p>“Uh-huh.”</p><p>“Friends?”</p><p>Mercurio sighed into the phone so it turned into a long, drawn out hiss. Fuck it. He didn’t see how it could last, anyway. “On an extremely provisional basis.”</p><p>He recoiled at Knox’s cheer of victory and the little theme song he immediately started singing about them being unstoppable best friends.</p><p>“Don’t get too excited,” Mercurio grumbled. “I got a lot goin’ on right now. And I really fuckin’ need to get into that warehouse as soon as possible.”</p><p>“Aw, man, but I <em>told</em> you—”</p><p>“I remember,” Mercurio snapped. “So why the hell is Tung in hidin’?”</p><p>“He usually never really tells me a lot about his business,” Knox replied. “All he said is that Therese is out for his head, and that I shouldn’t go anywhere near the Asylum.”</p><p>Mercurio sat in silence for a moment. He didn’t need freaky visions or weird bursts of insight to know the next bit. “You’ve been hangin’ around the Asylum, haven’t you?”</p><p>“It’s not like I’ve gone inside yet!” Knox protested. “But, I mean, I was thinkin’ maybe if I had, like, absolutely <em>zero</em> other choice, I could go up and ask Therese to see reason and then—”</p><p>“Goddamn it, Knox!”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Are you really gonna fuckin’ tell me you dunno how this shit works?”</p><p>“<em>What?”</em></p><p>“This ain’t like a file a complaint with HR thing. We are servants, basically slaves! You’re not even her fuckin’ ghoul, man! You’re less than nothin’ to Therese, do you get that?” Mercurio raked his free hand through his hair. “Christ, you fuckin’ <em>know</em> what Vandal does for her! You wanna get shipped back to Tung in blood bags?! Cause that’s what’s gonna happen if you go in tryin’ to politely ask her to call off whatever feud is bad enough to drive your own damn master into hidin’.”</p><p>“Aw, c’mon, man!” Knox already sounded defeated, but he of course had to try to salvage his wounded pride. “I’m not... I mean, I’ve got skills you don’t even know about. I—”</p><p>Mercurio checked his watch. There were only so many hours in the night. “I know you only asked to be friends so you could funnel information back to Tung.”</p><p>Knox made a shocked and aggrieved noise that would’ve been convincing if Mercurio was newer to all this bullshit than the Nosferatu ghoul. Part of it wasn’t an act, he knew. Loneliness came with the territory.</p><p>“Look,” Mercurio said. “Hold tight. I’ll come over to the club and try to talk to one of the Voerman sisters. Me bein’ LaCroix’s man at least counts for somethin’, but don’t expect too much. We’re nothin’ to Kindred.”</p><p>“Ugh, man, I hate that word.”</p><p>Mercurio groaned. “Stop sayin’ vampire all the damn time! There’s a goddamn Masquerade we gotta uphold, Christ!”</p><p>“Hey, that reminds me, do you think Jesus—”</p><p>Mercurio hung up.</p><hr/><p>The alley off the side of the club was poorly lit. Mercurio always figured that was by design, and now that he was Kindred he was sure of it. A man still dressed for a night out staggered around the corner, completely oblivious to Mercurio standing in the shadows, and unzipped his fly to use the wall of the neighboring building as a toilet. It’d be very easy to just grab him right there, while the poor bastard still had his dick out, and feed.</p><p>But Mercurio couldn’t do it. For one thing he was still pretty full from the night before, but the last thing he wanted was to another secondhand buzz going into an encounter with either of the Voerman twins. </p><p>The drunk finished pissing and staggered out of the alley to hail a cab, completely unaware of what almost happened. The chorus in Mercurio’s head laughed and jeered. Sooner or later he was gonna have to break down and properly feed, he knew, just not yet.</p><p>Knox was supposed to be waiting outside the club entrance, which gave Mercurio a chance to try something else in the meantime. Kindred could pass themselves off as living, breathing mortals if they made the effort, which probably involved vitae somehow—because everything with them did, didn’t it?</p><p>He focused on his heart and lungs, painfully aware of how neither functioned any longer, and tried rousing the blood in his system. He gasped and staggered back, caught off guard by the feeling of his pulse kicking in once again. Weird how fast he got used to the lack of it. That would take care of the whole telltale pallor issue, but at the cost of more vitae. The Beast didn’t like it. The hunger that was tolerable before was a little more acute, gnawing at him a little harder.</p><p>Did Kindred really feel like this all the damn time? With the Beast always prowling somewhere deep inside, just waiting for its chance to slip the leash? Even LaCroix? Really?</p><p>“Fantastic,” Mercurio muttered. “Just great.”</p><p>He could curse his fate later, it was time to test out how convincing he seemed to another ghoul. Knox was pacing in front of the club. It was a weeknight, and still pretty early in the evening, so there wasn’t any line to get inside.</p><p>Knox’s face lit up when he turned and saw him. “Merc! You came!”</p><p>Mercurio held both hands up so he didn’t get any ideas about rushing in for a hug.</p><p>“Yeah, hi,” he said. He searched Knox’s dopey smiling face for any signs he suspected something, but he just looked happy to see him. So far so good. </p><p>“Okay,” Mercurio said. “You stay out here, alright?”</p><p>Knox’s face immediately fell. “Aw, man! But what about bein’ a team?”</p><p>“We <em>ain’t</em> a team. We ain’t even really friends. I’m only doin’ this cause I need Tung out of hidin’ ASAP.”</p><p>“But—”</p><p>“I already told you I know your game, golden boy.”</p><p>“Heh, golden boy,” Knox chuckled. “That’s cool, I like that.”</p><p>“Just...” Mercurio trailed off, not sure why he called Knox that, aside from it was kinda logical based off his name, if you liked word play. “Just wait here. I’ll handle things inside and be back.”</p><p>“10-4, good buddy!”</p><p>Mercurio stopped cold in the middle of opening the club’s heavy wooden doors and gave Knox a hard look. </p><p>Knox smiled sheepishly. “You got it, Mercurio.”</p><p>The pounding music of the club welcomed him inside. The shit they listened to these days was just noise to Mercurio, not even good enough to dance to, but maybe he was just getting old. If <em>he</em> hated it, Kindred who were mortals in the days of Mozart and such probably wept tears of blood about the state of things.</p><p>Through the small entry hall, past the bouncer who barely looked at him, and Mercurio was inside the Asylum proper. The only people inside were the kind of people who made clubbing their life, already writhing on the dance floor in a way that looked more like some kind of fit than dancing. Mercurio glanced to the bar, but none of the bottles lined up behind it were going to help. </p><p>A voice carried over the noise, high and feminine and full of wicked amusement.</p><p>“Well, look who we have here!”</p><p>The bartender gave him a commiserating look before turning all his attention to wiping down the bar. Maybe Mercurio should’ve gone after the drunk guy in the alley after all.</p><p>Jeanette, the Voerman sister he really didn’t want to see, moved forward, her pig tails bouncing. That wasn’t all that was bouncing, but Mercurio kept his eyes up top. Goddamn,  but she wore a ton of eye makeup—it made her eyes look even crazier.</p><p>“Awww,” Jeanette cooed. “Your heart’s all aflutter at the sight of me. That’s so sweet, Mercury.”</p><p>No matter how many times he corrected her when forced to run errands to the club in the past, that was what she insisted on calling him. Fleet-footed messenger to the gods—at least he <em>hoped</em> that was the inspiration. He never bothered asking why, never cared to know how a Malk’s mind worked. Now that he was on the inside, he still had no fucking clue.</p><p>Jeanette was smirking as she stared at him, waiting for him to say his piece. Mercurio was glad to discover playing mortal didn’t extend as far as sweating.</p><p>“Yeah, uh, look Jeanette,” he said. “I wanted to talk to you about—”</p><p>“The voices in your head?”</p><p>All the color drained from his face, a novelty that could only happen thanks to the vitae he obviously wasted. Jeanette knew. </p><p>“Surprised?” She snickered. “Don’t be!”</p><p>Jeanette moved closer, close enough that she didn’t have to raise her voice over the music—maybe a little too close.</p><p>“You see, when a new little morsel is dropped in our web, all the vital juices sucked out so it can be wrapped up and turned into something shiny and new...”</p><p>“I’m, uh, not sure if this metaphor still works,” Mercurio said, leaning away. “Cause that’s butterflies or somethin’, ain’t it?”</p><p>“Isn’t that what you are? Still working the feeling into those new wings of yours?” Jeanette wrapped her arms around herself and fanned her hands. “Not quite ready to fly, Mercury baby? Well, anyway, some of us can feel it when that happens. <em>I</em> certainly did.” Her arms were unfolded and her hands were cupping his face in an instant. “And it was...” She breathed in deep, her eyes rolling back as she smelled him. “Mmm, so <em>delicious</em>.”</p><p>“Whoa, hey.” Mercurio pushed her back as gently as he could manage while a part of him wanted very badly to run, rip her face off, or both. “No touchin’. Or tastin’. Or... or anything.” He was amazed at how level his voice sounded, though unfortunately his fangs were showing. He was used to hiding normal human reactions to stress, not those. “Not that I ain’t flattered, but... nah. Thanks, but no thanks.”</p><p>Jeanette giggled and stepped back. “Oh, it’s fine! I’m just teasing. I would never fool around with LaCroix’s boy toy, even if you <em>are</em> one of us now.” She grinned wickedly at Mercurio’s stunned reaction. People didn’t really think he and LaCroix were a thing, did they? No way.</p><p>“Besides,” Jeanette continued on in an airy tone. “Duty calls. I have people to do, things to see, but <em>promise</em> you’ll think of me if you need someone to show you the ropes, m’kay?”</p><p>“Depends on what ropes...”</p><p>Jeanette laughed even louder, drawing a few looks. “Oh, don’t you worry, Mercury baby. I only use the finest, <em>strongest</em> silk.” She wiggled her fingers in a wave as she strutted toward the elevator. “Toodles!”</p><p>Mercurio really shouldn’t have been surprised. This was why he always tried to avoid the Asylum unless his errands forced him inside for some reason. Therese he could handle, but Jeanette was just so... <em>much</em>. </p><p>And now they were the same goddamn clan. Which somehow meant they were also literally connected? What the hell?</p><p>Never mind the web stuff, he’d figure it out later. What if she told LaCroix? No, that wasn’t how Kindred operated. It was all about leverage with them. Jeanette knew Mercurio was fresh enough that the secret could be held over him for a bit, which was especially bad news. If anyone, she was going to tell her bitch sister—and Therese desperately wanted in the Camarilla’s good graces.</p><p>“Close your mouth chief,” the bartender grunted. “You’ll catch flies like that.”</p><p>Mercurio rounded on the big tattooed man and looked him dead in the eye. “Let me up to see Therese. Now.”</p><p>The bartender hit the button under the bar without hesitation or question. </p><p>Mercurio was just stepping into to the hallway outside the office when he realized he’d never commanded anyone like that before. LaCroix did it all the time, but that wasn’t one of the powers Mercurio inherited from him. </p><p>The shouted argument heard through the paper thin walls left Mercurio no time to reflect on that. Hell, the only reason it couldn’t be heard all the way downstairs was because of the loud, godawful noise pounding through the club. Once he hit the top floor it faded, allowing Mercurio to hear what was probably a typical night for the twins—something about whose city it was, lack of respect, personal insults, typical sibling stuff. It ended with Jeanette storming off and slamming a door like a teenager.</p><p>“You may enter now,” Therese called.</p><p>Mercurio tensed behind the door. Figures she’d know he was there and eavesdropping, too. He opened the office door, which creaked loudly, and stepped inside.</p><p>“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to—“</p><p>“I don’t care,” Therese cut him off. “Jeanette is Jeanette. I can no more control her little outbursts than I can control who witnesses them. It’s something I’ve learned to live with.” She reached up and readjusted the bun her hair was piled in. “I trust you’re not <em>actually</em> here seeking answers about your condition? Because I’ve no time or interest in playing mother hen.”</p><p>Mercurio winced. “You know, too?”</p><p>“My sister and I <em>are</em> of the same clan,” Therese replied. “Some of us simply hide our... <em>affliction</em> better than others.”</p><p>“That’s what I’ve been tryin’ to do...”</p><p>Therese leaned against her desk, looking Mercurio over with a cold, appraising eye. “Well, you’re not painting the walls with your own blood or running through the streets screaming of a looming apocalypse, so I’d say you’re doing well for yourself so far.”</p><p>Mercurio recoiled in horror. “Is that common with you—er, us?”</p><p>Therese’s smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Any Malkavian you have ever encountered in public is merely one whose mind was not utterly shattered by the embrace. Congratulations. You were lucky.”</p><p>Mercurio said nothing in response to that. He didn’t feel lucky. He didn’t particularly feel crazy, either, but that was supposed to be a surefire sign of insanity, too. The fact he was already used to the background noise in his head proved it.</p><p>“I’ve just got one quick question,” he said, raising his hand a little like he was back in grade school. Therese had that effect on him. Maybe it was how she dressed. Or acted. “Uh, If you don’t mind.”</p><p>Therese rolled her eyes. “Go on, then.”</p><p>Mercurio pointed vaguely to his temple. “Is this... I mean, all the noise... does it ever lay off?”</p><p>Therese blinked once, slow and deliberate. That must have been her version of utter shock. “You would have to be deeply entangled in the Madness Network to hear it constantly.”</p><p>“Is that the ‘web’ Jeanette was talking about?”</p><p>“It has many names,” Therese replied, frowning. “Perhaps you’re not so fortunate after all.”</p><p>“Gee, thanks,” Mercurio sighed. “But, anyway. I got business.”</p><p>The frown deepened into a scowl. “Such as?”</p><p>Mercurio squared his shoulders. He could do this. He wasn’t a ghoul anymore. He was Kindred, just like Therese. “I need you to call off the feud with Tung.”</p><p>Therese looked a lot like Jeanette when she smirked. They were identical twins, but still. “You <em>do</em> know how these things work, don’t you?” She folded her arms. “Ah, but then <em>of course</em> someone who’s been a ghoul as long as you would know about boons. Still, as a Kindred you’re nothing but a fledgling now...”</p><p>She was fucking with him. Therese knew damn well Mercurio’s embrace was unsanctioned and she could rat him out at any moment—specifically the moment he stopped being useful. Mercurio’s lip curled, the Beast urging him to rip the smirk off her face, make sure she never said a word to his master, but he refused to let it win.</p><p>“Oh, don’t give me that look,” Therese tutted. “This is just how things work in our society. Now that you’re apart of it, you have to play the game like everyone else.”</p><p>“So what d’ya want?” Mercurio asked, unable to keep from snarling. Talking around fully extended fangs felt weird as hell.</p><p>Therese opened her desk drawer and pulled out a key. She twirled it around her finger as she explained the task.</p><p>“I have a vested interested in restoring a certain historic cliffside property. The Ocean House Hotel. Perhaps you’ve heard of it?”</p><p>“I think I saw a ghost huntin’ show about it once.”</p><p>Therese stopped twirling the key and squeezed it hard enough to make her already pale hand go whiter. “That’s exactly the sort of superstitious nonsense I’m fighting against here! The crew is refusing to work, citing strange occurrences at the construction site.”</p><p>“What am I supposed to do about that?” Mercurio asked. “If they’re already too afraid to work, me puttin’ the squeeze on ‘em ain’t gonna help.”</p><p>“I’m not talking about crude mafia intimidation tactics,” Therese scoffed. “I just need someone to go into the hotel and retrieve a personal item of the ghost’s to make the hauntings stop.”</p><p>“That’s really all it takes?”</p><p>“My research says yes.” Therese gestured to a Manila folder on her desk. She didn’t offer to share and Mercurio wasn’t really interested in looking. “Once the ghost’s anchor is in my hands, it will be completely within my control and the hauntings will stop.”</p><p>“I dunno,” Mercurio scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Even assuming ghosts exist, that sounds a little too easy to me. I mean, the whole murder story was one thing, but a <em>lot</em> of people died in that fire...”</p><p>“Do you want the feud called off or not?”</p><p>“Okay, okay.” Mercurio held his hand out. “What’s the key go to, anyway?”</p><p>“The access grate in the sewer,” Therese replied. “It’s the only way into the property at this hour.”</p><p>“Right. Figures.” He couldn’t even be upset, much less protest. This was his life now. Unlife. Whatever. “Can I ask one last question?”</p><p>Therese glared at him. He was pushing it. “One, and <em>only</em> one.”</p><p>“How the hell do you fight a ghost?”</p><p>“You don’t, of course.” Therese turned and waved him away. “They’re perfectly harmless. Now, go.”</p><p>Somehow Mercurio doubted it was going to be as easy as getting in, grabbing some old antique, and getting out, but what other choice did he have?</p><p>None, that was what.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I might circle back and work in certain side quest shenanigans later, but I’ve got this copy of Wraith: the Oblivion open and just wanna get right to the... ahem... harrowing ordeal.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Hotspot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hi! Been a bit, eh? After shaking off the dust I decided to work on other projects, but now I’m back on this bullshit. Also transferred this to my main account cause why not.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The feeling of being watched returned and followed Mercurio through the sewers, making him glad when his heart stopped pounding like a frightened animal trapped in his chest. He didn’t think to time how long the blush and all its annoying little side effects lasted, didn’t want to check his watch because he’d only psych himself out. Easy to slip into another compulsive loop, trying to make sure time didn’t slip away from him again. </p><p>Was that his problem? It wasn’t like trudging through the sewers upset Mercurio that much, but then he only had to go through the storm sewers to reach the hotel. The voices, the twins agreed, were a clan thing—not that he really trusted either of them—so apparently schizophrenia wasn’t to blame. Though how could he be sure?</p><p>Mercurio shook his head.</p><p>And how was knowing his exact brand of crazy gonna help, anyway? It wasn’t like he could medicate it away. Therese said he was functional, which was enough, but he worried how he came off to people who weren’t Malkavian. People who knew him before he died. People who expected better of him. </p><p>Okay, really just LaCroix.</p><p>Worrying about it helped nothing. Best to just focus on the task at hand. Mercurio couldn’t drag things out like the beach house. Just get in, get the item, get out. Boom. Only not literally boom this time. He just wished he knew what the hell he was looking for—besides something obviously haunted. A creepy doll, maybe?</p><p>The sewer access opened right next to a huge mound of gravel at the edge of the construction site.</p><p>“Lovely night for a ghost hunt,” a voice said as soon as Mercurio lowered the manhole cover back into place. </p><p>It took him a moment to recognize the voice wasn’t, in fact, inside his head—it was coming from atop the gravel pile. The man crouched above grinned when Mercurio looked up. </p><p>“Wouldn’t you agree?”</p><p>Mercurio started to reach for his coat, only to remember he hadn’t brought a weapon. Didn’t want to waste time going back to his place when he had nothing that could work against ghosts. Supposing they even existed. Ah, who the fuck was he kidding? He was a vampire, and—judging by the claws and the sunglasses that were clearly hiding something—so was the limey prick waiting for him.</p><p>Mercurio scowled at the strange Kindred. “The fuck do you want?”</p><p>“To help, of course.” The stranger rose. “But first, allow me to introduce myself: I’m Beckett.” When Mercurio didn’t immediately react, he sighed heavily. “I took care of your car? I know your sire?”</p><p>“Oh.” Mercurio scowled. “<em>You</em>.”</p><p>Right. Cryptic notes and getting him on the hook for boons right out of the gate. Great fucking introduction. If Beckett wasn’t a good distance above, Mercurio would’ve jumped him right then, but that was definitely why he chose that particular vantage point.</p><p>Mercurio was taken aback by how readily the Beast seized on the slightest bit of anger, making him ache to turn it outwards. He grit his teeth, feeling his fangs pushing down again. Shit. He was acting like... well, like a goddamn fledgling—barely able to control himself.</p><p>He didn’t notice Beckett move, barely heard his feet touch the ground as he was suddenly invading Mercurio’s personal space.</p><p>“Easy now,” Beckett said, lowering his dark sunglasses so Mercurio could see his eyes—slitted amber cat’s eyes that practically glowed in the poorly lit lot. Or were they actually glowing? Mercurio doubted his own perceptions. Beckett smiled at him as he stared, adding, “There’s really no need for us to fight.”</p><p>No, there wasn’t. Mercurio was better than that. It wasn’t like he was some fucking rabble, but after dealing with the Voerman twins back to back, Mercurio’s nerves were shot—and he regretted not feeding off that drunk in the alley when he had the chance more with every passing moment. </p><p>“Hold up.” Mercurio felt strange. Not calm, per se. The anxiety was still there, still gnawing at him, but the Beast was quiet. “What did you just do?”</p><p>Beckett smirked. “Perceptive, aren’t you? I merely told your Beast to heel, as it were.” He started walking like he just expected Mercurio to follow. “Though you frenzying wouldn’t pose much threat to me personally, I’d rather not make this meeting more awkward than it already is by having to fight you off.”</p><p>Mercurio didn’t have much choice but to fall in step behind Beckett. He was going the same way even if he didn’t care much for the guy’s attitude. </p><p>There was something about his voice, though...</p><p>“Oh, right!” Mercurio snapped his fingers. “You’re that voice from before! The nature documentary one!”</p><p>Beckett stopped so abruptly Mercurio nearly walked into him. They were almost outside the construction foreman’s trailer as Beckett turned to face him. He blinked, noticeable in the way the glow from beneath his dark tinted sunglasses briefly faded. Kindred really didn’t do that much, Mercurio realized.</p><p>“Please don’t tell me you think that that of <em>everyone</em> with a British accent.”</p><p>“Nah, it’s just somethin’ about the way you drone on.”</p><p>Beckett stared at him, totally deadpan.</p><p>“Look, I can’t help where my mind goes.” Mercurio folded his arms. “Especially not <em>now</em>.”</p><p>“Indeed,” Beckett huffed. “Still, it’s good to know sending a direct message worked. I never thought to so much as attempt it until you came along.”</p><p>“You can do that?”</p><p>Beckett nodded. “I still prefer more <em>conventional</em> communication methods, such as the note I left you, but having no other option available at that particular moment... well.” He turned his hands out helplessly. “Now, as for how a Gangrel such as myself came to be entangled to your clan’s Madness Network...”</p><p>“It was my sire, wasn’t it?”</p><p>“Ah. Yes.” Beckett grimaced. “You are indeed <em>very</em> perceptive.”</p><p>Mercurio shrugged. “It was just a hunch.”</p><p>“Your clan is known for that as well.”</p><p>“Whoop-de-fuckin’-do, it don’t make up for the non-stop horror show in my head.” Mercurio pushed past him to open the trailer door. Either it was unlocked, or Beckett had already snooped around before Mercurio arrived. Whatever the case, it opened. “And speakin’ of horror shows, I got a job to do here. Don’t suppose you know much about ghosts and their ‘anchors’ or whatever, do ya?”</p><p>“I have a passing familiarity,” Beckett demurred. “It’s hard not to run into wraiths now and again in my line of work.”</p><p>“Yeah, you’ve got that whole bootleg Indiana Jones look goin’ on.” Mercurio picked the key helpfully labeled ‘FRONT DOOR’ off the board on the wall. No others were left on it.</p><p>Beckett huffed what might have been a laugh. “You’re not the first person to say as much.”</p><p>“Anything I should know about these ‘wraiths’, then?”</p><p>“Well—”</p><p>A diesel engine starting up interrupted what no doubt would’ve been a short lecture on ghost behavior. Mercurio and Beckett exchanged glances, with Mercurio fixing Beckett with a far more accusatory glare. He should’ve known if people were still hanging around, right? He got there first, for Chrissakes!</p><p>Something rammed into the side of the trailer before Mercurio could outright accuse him of overlooking someone. </p><p>“The fuck?!” Mercurio stumbled backwards, bracing himself against the foreman’s desk.</p><p>The board formerly holding the front door key fell off the wall, but that was the extent of the damage inside.</p><p>Beckett silently gestured Mercurio follow him outside. After looking around for a weapon and finding nothing of use—unless he wanted to use an empty coffee mug, or maybe scissors—Mercurio reluctantly came along.</p><p>A small Bobcat excavator had crashed into the side of the trailer. Its engine died on impact. No one was in sight. There weren’t even any footprints around it.</p><p>Beckett cleared his throat. “To begin with—wraiths, much like kindred, have a wide variety of powers.” He gestured to the Bobcat. “Possessing machinery of any complexity is one such ability, and thus they can be quite dangerous if provoked.”</p><p>Mercurio stared at the crumpled metal of the crash site. “Like, say, if we invade their stompin’ grounds?”</p><p>“The hotel itself, given its history, could count as an anchor for multiple wraiths.”</p><p>“Great.” Mercurio threw his hands up. He considered throwing the key in the ocean while he was at it, but he kept his hand in a fist around it. “Awesome. You could’ve lied to save my feelings, y’know. Say it’s probably just the one.”</p><p>“Better you know exactly what we’re up against.” Beckett pushed up his sunglasses. “I did some research before I came here. The news back in the day was rather sensational, I must say, but I suppose that’s just Hollywood for you.”</p><p>“Yeah, try livin’ here.” Mercurio clenched his fist even tighter around the key as the full implication of what Beckett was saying hit him. “So... what, are you comin’ in with me, or are you just gonna pass on what you learned and wish me luck?”</p><p>“Oh, I’m most definitely at your service,” Beckett confirmed with a smirk. “I’d feel absolutely <em>terrible</em> if you died so early into your new existence.”</p><p>“Great.” Mercurio rolled his eyes. “Now can you do me a favor and shut up about that? I already fuckin’ know how tenuous it is, thanks.”</p><p>Beckett bowed. Of course he did. Asshole. </p><p>One of the lights by the front door burst as soon as Mercurio stepped up to unlock it. He grit his teeth, trying to tell himself every freaky little thing that happened wasn’t necessarily because of a ghost fucking around with them, but he still had a bad feeling going into the hotel—more so than usual, anyway.</p><p>At least he wasn’t alone anymore, even if Mercurio wasn’t sure Beckett was someone he wanted hanging around for long.</p><hr/><p>A worker had gone to the trouble of judiciously oiling the front door’s hinges so it wouldn’t squeal when opened. No chance of anything spooky there. Instead, they were greeted by an overturned metal trash can very slowly rolling down the hallway. It came to a stop just shy of the elevator.</p><p>None of the lights were on. All they had to go by was the moonlight pouring in through the old lace curtains in the windows.</p><p>Mercurio pulled the door shut behind them. The damn thing sounded too loud and final when it closed, like they were trapped, but that was ridiculous. He opened and closed it again real quick, just to confirm that it was indeed still unlocked. The closing didn’t sound so bad the second time around.</p><p>“Tell me,” Beckett spoke in a whisper, unnecessary as it seemed. “Have you ever heard of the expression ‘I feel as though someone just walked over my grave’?”</p><p>Mercurio gave him a sidelong glance. “My granddad might’ve said it once or twice, why?”</p><p>“That’s the feeling I got just now.”</p><p>“Cool, so it’s not just me.”</p><p>“We should remain close to each other.”</p><p>“Believe me, I got no intention of splittin’ up. I’ve seen too way many horror movies to even think about it.”</p><p>“How positively <em>ghoulish</em>.”</p><p>Mercurio pointed a warning finger at Beckett, who was still smirking. “Don’t even fuckin’ start.”</p><p>He took the lead. It was his shitty little treasure hunt, after all. </p><p>The front desk was full of cobwebs. No keys or anything that looked like it might be of use. Figured. Beckett poked through the cabinets below the desk and also came up empty handed. Nothing but some old flyers about hotel services from decades ago.</p><p>It was much too quiet in the hotel. Part of that was from the power being out. No hum of air conditioning, no buzz of electricity—just the distant sound of the waves outside. Even the noise inside Mercurio’s head had died down, like all the voices were holding holding their breath—listening, waiting for something to happen. He couldn’t believe he missed it.</p><p>“Yes,” Beckett agreed, craning his head up to look at the cobweb-strewn chandelier hanging above the main foyer. He frowned. “It’s unnerving, isn’t it? The quiet?”</p><p>“Oh. Right.” Mercurio chuckled. “Forgot you were tuned in to the same network for a second.”</p><p>“We <em>just</em> talked about this,” Beckett groaned. “Honestly.”</p><p>“You don’t seem crazy, though.”</p><p>“Nor do you.”</p><p>They stared at each other in awkward silence. That begged the question of what ‘crazy’ seemed like. A nearby rattling drew Mercurio’s attention to a faded picture on the wall. It flung itself off the hanger, leaving him no chance to dodge before it hit him in the face.</p><p>“Fuck!”</p><p>Shards of broken glass rained off his lapel and joined the rest of the debris on the floor. Mercurio raised a hand to his face to check the damage, but when he felt around he knew there wasn’t so much as a bruise left behind—the wonders of Kindred resilience.</p><p>Yay.</p><p>“I suppose that’s our cue to keep moving,” Beckett said dryly.</p><p>“And keep our heads down,” Mercurio added. “Son of a bitch almost got me in the eye.”</p><p>“Those grow back,” Beckett replied. “Mostly everything does.”</p><p>“Still not how I wanna spend the next few d—<em>nights</em> if I can help it.” They skirted around the chandelier, not trusting anything after the picture, and started up one of the curving grand staircases. They went up slowly, spaced a few steps apart so they weren’t putting too much weight on them at once, and paused every time they so much as creaked. So far so good. </p><p>Mercurio glared at Beckett. “And what the hell do you mean by ‘mostly’?”</p><p>Beckett hummed. “There are a few notable—” a loud crack interrupted him. A huge portion of the stairs gave way all at once, taking them both down with it. Darkness swallowed them as they landed somewhere in the basement. Mercurio broke Beckett’s fall, and his latent Fortitude kept him from breaking anything else in the process.</p><p>“Ow,” Mercurio yelled. “Damn it!”</p><p>So much for trying to be careful on the stairs. Mercurio wasn’t really hurt, but it still needed to be said. Beckett scrambled to his feet and pushed the rubble aside, pausing when he saw Mercurio wasn’t any worse for wear.</p><p>“Oh.” His relief was almost touching. “You’re alright.”</p><p>“Used to be a Ventrue ghoul,” Mercurio said, dusting himself off as he got to his feet. “Gettin’ knocked around was all part of the job.”</p><p>“Then the cursing was because...?”</p><p>“I’m already fuckin’ sick of this place.”</p><p>The basement was pitch dark. The power was still out and there were no longer any windows to give them light to see by, but Beckett fixed that by slipping his sunglasses down. Soon everything was cast in an eerie red light as the glow from his eyes grew much more intense.</p><p>“I coulda just used my phone,” Mercurio muttered, trying not to think of the vision he had the night he was embraced.</p><p>“Wraiths can possess those as well.”</p><p>“Welp.” Mercurio stopped reaching for his inner coat pocket. He no longer wanted to so much as check the damage done in the fall if it meant tempting fate—or rather, the hotel ghosts. “Guess you’re the leader now, bright eyes.”</p><p>Beckett chuckled. The only way open to them was a narrow brick hallway that immediately made Mercurio nervous. It didn’t help that Beckett’s eyes cast everything in a lurid shade of blood red. The hallway was too narrow to walk abreast, so Mercurio was stuck walking behind Beckett. Thankfully he was taller than him, so as they approached a fork in the tunnel he got a pretty good view of a woman in the white dress fleeing in terror from... apparently nothing.</p><p>They both stopped.</p><p>“Ghost?” Mercurio asked.</p><p>“You really needn’t ask,” Beckett sighed. “If that was an actual living woman I’d be able to smell it.” He ran his claws down the brickwork. “There’s nothing but mold and dust down here.”</p><p>“I just worry about hallucinations is all.” Mercurio hated to admit it, but fuck, might as well tell the only other person who might understand. “I worry about... well, a lot of stuff lately, to be honest.”</p><p>Beckett glanced over his shoulder. His glowing cat eyes were hard to read. “We can talk about that when all this is over. For now, let’s just focus on getting the power on.”</p><p>“Yeah, sure.”</p><p>The basement was a rat maze of claustrophobic tunnels identical to the first with no signs to guide the way to anything. There <em>used</em> to be signs, Mercurio noticed, but someone—either ghosts or urban explorers, maybe both—had torn them all down and left them scattered across the floor.</p><p>“I fuckin’ hate this,” Mercurio grumbled. “I oughtta march right back to Therese and tell her to find her own haunted piece of crap. Then I’ll just find Tung myself. Somehow. Fuck, I dunno.”</p><p>“Doing anything to that end requires escaping this basement first, I’m afraid.”</p><p>A drawn out creaking drew Mercurio’s attention to a room he was certain they passed by at least once before. His eyes had somehow adjusted enough that he could see it was a laundry room even without the help of Beckett’s safety flare eyes. The doors to one of the machines was very slowly opening on its own.</p><p>“Ah, shit.” </p><p>Beckett turned back. “What is it?”</p><p>Mercurio pointed. “You look. There’s probably a severed head in there or something.”</p><p>“I think perhaps you’ve watched a few too many horror movies, Mercurio.”</p><p>Beckett slipped past him and walked to the open dryer—reaching in without the slightest bit of hesitation to pick up a key. He held it up to Mercurio, who was still hanging back by the door, with a grin.</p><p>“The tag says it’s to the boiler room,” he announced. “I do believe that’s our ticket out of here.”</p><p>“Wait.” Mercurio grabbed Beckett’s arm as he started back into the tunnels. “I never actually told you my name before, did I?”</p><p>Beckett looked pained at the question. “Er, no, you didn’t. But, to be fair, I never elaborated about the identity of your sire, either.” He gestured Mercurio follow. “Come with me. I’d rather not linger down here any longer than necessary.”</p><p>Beckett doubled back towards one of the locked doors they’d encountered. Mercurio hurried to keep up.</p><p>“His name is Anatole,” Beckett said, his voice echoing in the close quarters. “We’ve known each other for a very long time, and until recently I considered him one of my dearest friends.”</p><p>“Until he chucked you into a literal pit of madness, right?”</p><p>Beckett froze right in front of the door. He didn’t turn around, he just chuckled mirthlessly before slotting the key into the lock. It fit. “Yes. That’s exactly right.”</p><p>He didn’t open the boiler room door just yet. “I haven’t seen him in person since that night. He wrote me to apologize, said in time I would come to understand, but... it still hurts.”</p><p>“I’ll say,” Mercurio scoffed. “I mean, I was dragged into it the normal way and it still fuckin’ sucks. The voices. The visions. Ugh.”</p><p>Beckett turned, the pupils of his cat eyes blown wide. “Visions?”</p><p>Mercurio took a step back. “Is, uh... is that not normal?”</p><p>Beckett fell back against the door, laughing hysterically as though Mercurio had just told him the funniest goddamn joke he’d ever heard. Mercurio gaped, thinking Beckett finally looked crazy after all.</p><p>“I should have known,” Beckett said once the laughter finally died down. “It’s not uncommon for a childe to inherit their sire’s quirks. That’s also true of the Voerman sisters, but... really, the less you know about them, the better.”</p><p>“You don’t have to tell me twice.”</p><p>Beckett chuckled and opened the boiler room door. As he followed him inside, Mercurio almost wanted to protest that it was just a figure of speech that happened to be relevant to the twins, not like he was really <em>that</em> clever, but instead changed the subject.</p><p>“So this guy Anatole is like a seer?”</p><p>“He’s a bonafide prophet,” Beckett replied. “And your pedigree, coupled with the fact you evidently inherited his gift, will no doubt be key to your continued survival in the coming nights.”</p><p>Mercurio didn’t know what to say to that, nor did he know how to feel about his ability being something he could bank for clout with other Kindred. He hadn’t really made any plans for the future besides carrying out the task LaCroix had assigned him in a desperate bid to act like he could continue on like it was just business as usual, never mind the whole Tradition problem.</p><p>Beckett threw the switch for the hotel’s main power. A naked light bulb flickered to life above them.</p><p>“There,” Beckett said with a grin, slipping his sunglasses back on. “That should get the elevators working.”</p><p>“Hey, that reminds me,” Mercurio said. “How come in all our wanderin’ in circles, we didn’t find some emergency access stairs or whatever?”</p><p>“Poor turn of the century building codes?” Beckett shrugged. “Though temporarily warping reality is also something wraiths can... oh, <em>bugger</em>.”</p><p>The light flickered as the rows of huge boilers in the room rumbled and hissed ominously. Hard to say if it was more ghost bullshit, or if the old system was just promptly malfunctioning after years of lying dormant. Mercurio didn’t care to hang around to find out.</p><p>“Run for it!”</p><p>Yeah, like he really needed to say it. His voice was drowned out by bolts popping from the machinery and pinging off the metal and brick like popcorn. Searing pain flared through his arm as he ran, but Mercurio didn’t stop to check the damage until they were in the elevator. </p><p>A bolt had gone clean through his right forearm. He stared in shock at the silver dollar sized hole, unable to resist the temptation to stick a finger through it. If he were still human, he might’ve been sick at the sight of it. Instead he just felt... <em>weird</em>. Words failed him to properly describe it. The injury didn’t seem real. It seemed more like a bad movie special effect even as he wiggled his finger in the hole.</p><p>The elevator dinged cheerfully, so normal it only made things feel weirder, and as Mercurio stepped out onto the second floor of the hotel with Beckett he felt like his grip on reality was slipping.</p><p>A flying vase promptly hit him in the head. Like the picture, it only did minor damage, but that was the last straw.</p><p>Mercurio had had enough—and by extension, so had the Beast.</p><p>“Mercurio, don’t—”</p><p>Too late. No chance to look into his eyes before Mercurio pounced that time, but Beckett was much, <em>much</em> stronger than he appeared. Compared to him, Mercurio was like a frenzying kitten. Beckett  barely flinched as another vase hit him squarely in the back while he grappled with Mercurio, who hissed and spat while futilely struggling against him. Beckett was much more hurt from the boiler room as well, with holes still oozing in his chest, and the sight of the vitae seeping from the wounds only enraged Mercurio further. No matter. Beckett slammed him down onto the rug, kicking up a cloud of dust as he pinned him on his back, and grabbed his face so Mercurio had no choice but to look at him.</p><p>The Beast stopped fighting. Mercurio stopped fighting. The frenzy ended. Beckett let go of him. </p><p>“I apologize for, er...” He cleared his throat and got off Mercurio, awkwardly looking away. “All that. I may have been a little too rough.”</p><p>His claws had drawn blood. Mercurio wiped at it, but couldn’t bring himself to try and heal the cuts, let alone the hole in his arm. He pushed himself up slowly, careful to only use his left arm. </p><p>“I’m the one who should be apologizing,” he grumbled. “I completely lost it there.”</p><p>So it <em>was</em> possible to be somewhat aware of what was happening during a frenzy. Good to know. That much more embarrassing for him, but good to know.</p><p>“You’re a fledgling,” Beckett replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “It’s to be expected.”</p><p>Mercurio grimaced. Just what he needed, a reminder he’d gone from veteran ghoul to baby vamp. Granted, he stood to get about as much respect from other Kindred any way he sliced it—maybe <em>slightly</em> more than before if LaCroix didn’t decide his very existence was another slight against his rule as Prince of LA.</p><p>“Let’s just go,” Mercurio said, putting his hand over the hole in his arm. “This isn’t worth it.”</p><p>Beckett nodded in tired agreement. “I have a small blood supply back at my safe house. We can talk more while we recover there.”</p><p>“Sure, I guess.”</p><p>Mercurio still thought Beckett was kind of an asshole, but at least he was a trustworthy one.</p><p>“Fuck,” he said as they left the hotel behind. “Therese is gonna be so goddamn pissed.”</p><p>“Yes, well...” Beckett patted him on the back, throwing off yet more dust. Only one night, and Mercurio was a mess again. “She’ll just have to get over it, won’t she?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I couldn’t stop thinking about how at the game’s launch somebody was so scared by the Ocean House level one of the devs actually had them send him their save file and he played it for them and sent it back. So let’s say that’s what inspired me ending this arc early... that, and, according to Beckett’s Jyhad Diary, the Ocean House is still haunted even after it’s renovated.</p><p>So begins me butchering the story missions.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Safe</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Here’s Jack!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Time for a short break.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The car that picked them up wasn’t a cab, it was a rental driven by Beckett’s ghoul, Cesare. One whiff of his breath while exchanging greetings was enough to make Mercurio decide it best to take the wheel himself. Cesare’s dark eyes darted about nervously—or guiltily, more like. He clearly hadn’t expected to be called in to play driver so soon, and had imbibed accordingly.</p><p>“That’s really not necessary,” Cesare said, desperately looking to his master for backup. “It’s a short drive, sir.”</p><p>“Humor me,” Mercurio said.</p><p>Beckett shrugged. He wasn’t budging from the front passenger seat. “If you insist upon driving injured, by all means.”</p><p>Mercurio glanced at the hole in his arm. It wasn’t any worse than the bullet from the night before, plus this time he wasn’t dealing with severe injuries and massive blood loss. “Better this than drunk.”</p><p>Cesare grudgingly climbed out of the driver’s seat in defeat. He wouldn’t look Mercurio in the eye as they traded places, a reminder that he was on a whole other level now. Had he still been a ghoul, Cesare likely would’ve argued harder—probably would’ve found him during daylight hours to ask who the fuck he thought he was, too. But Mercurio was Kindred, worthy of being called “sir” and everything, so Cesare just quietly got in the back instead.</p><p>“Where to?”</p><p>Beckett gave the directions, leading them to out of town and into the desert. The safe house was seriously just a house—the kind of ranch style built for families in the post war boom, only strangely isolated. Someone was sitting on the front porch smoking a cigar. The headlights alighted on pale skin, a denim vest, and a long, scraggly black beard that Mercurio immediately recognized from a rogue’s gallery of photos LaCroix showed him once. </p><p>“You gotta be fuckin’ kiddin’ me,” he muttered.</p><p>“Oh, so you know Jack?” Beckett sounded amused.</p><p>“Mostly by reputation.”</p><p>Smiling Jack was the only member of the Anarchs the Prince seriously feared, mostly because he was the only one who was older than LaCroix himself by at least a century. Rumor had it the guy used to be a honest to god pirate back in the day. The only reason LaCroix didn’t consider him more of a threat was Jack had no interest in ruling.</p><p>Now here he was harboring Beckett, and making things that much more complicated for Mercurio.</p><p>Jack waved as the car pulled up, but otherwise didn’t move from one of three rocking chairs on the porch. The place was so deceptively picturesque it was painful. Jack’s black Harley-Davidson motorcycle was parked at the end of the gravel driveway. Mercurio parked well back from it.</p><p>He didn’t immediately move to get out of the car after shutting off the engine.</p><p>“So, uh, look...”</p><p>“You’d rather word of your new condition not get around,” Beckett finished for him. “Especially not outside the Camarilla. Is that it?”</p><p>“Yeah. Exactly.”</p><p>“Not to worry,” Becket said, opening the passenger-side door. “Jack owes me several favors. I can guarantee his silence.”</p><p>Cesare hurried after Beckett like a faithful dog, leaving Mercurio to ponder what the hell <em>Smiling Jack</em> had done to end up so deep in debt to Beckett while he took his sweet time catching up. Cesare continued on inside the house without so much as pausing to say hi, eager to get clear of the vampires, while Beckett quietly exchanged a few words with Jack on the porch. </p><p>Jack cackled.</p><p>“Man, you are <em>fuuuuuucked</em>,” he said by way of greeting as Mercurio walked up. “I oughtta just off you right now and save everybody the hassle. Mail yer ashes back to LaCroix first class.”</p><p>Mercurio froze. Jack smirked, his cigar pinched casually between two fingers like he wasn’t made of dry kindling. The Beast’s response was, for once, not anger—it was fear. It wasn’t the cigar’s smoldering cherry that had it so riled, it was the much older predator casually threatening his life. </p><p>Mercurio fought the urge to flee. Somewhere in the distance a coyote howled. Despite Cesare’s assertion it wasn’t a long drive, they were a fair distance from civilization. That was the Valley for you, drive a bit in any direction and suddenly you were in the middle of nowhere in the goddamn desert.</p><p>“But you’re not going to,” Beckett growled—seriously <em>growled</em>—at Jack. “Because that would be an extremely rude thing to do to my guest.”</p><p>“I’m kiddin’! I’m kiddin’!” Jack took a long drag of his cigar and exhaled a couple of smoke rings. “Christ, Beckett, ain’tcha ever heard of gallows humor?”</p><p>Jack was fucking with him. Why even be surprised, much less upset? Mercurio was fresh meat, anybody’s game. He might as well get used to it. Mercurio forced himself up the three steps to the porch. Jack whistled low as he stepped fully into the light.</p><p>“Nice pothole you got there,” Jack cackled, driving Mercurio to cover his arm self-consciously. “Gonna have to file a work order with yer boss to get that filled.” Jack laughed like a goddamn cartoon character. “Could take weeks!”</p><p>“I’m not a fuckin’ robot!” Mercurio snapped, fangs bared. “Christ, man, just cause I was his ghoul doesn’t mean I’m automatically still his servant for for fuck’s sake! He’s not my sire, damn it!”</p><p>The rant didn’t faze Jack at all. He raised his cigar to his lips, eyeing Mercurio with a distant, almost pitying expression, and suddenly Mercurio wished he’d just go back to mocking him.</p><p>“Which is <em>why</em> you’re fucked.” Jack blew a plume of smoke directly at Mercurio, who was so covered in dirt and grime from the hotel it hardly mattered. “You oughta know better’n anybody, blue bloods fuckin’ hate when people steal their toys, kid. Don’t matter who yer sire is, LaCroix’s gonna hit the roof of his fancy ass tower when he finds out.” His eyes flicked to Beckett. “And don’t worry, it ain’t gonna come from me. Can’t make any promises about the grapevine, though.”</p><p>Cutting through sewers, Mercurio knew, didn’t improve his chances of keeping it a secret for very long, but he also knew the Nosferatu didn’t give information for free. He still had hope he could prove his worth to LaCroix—no matter the odds. </p><p>Jack’s expression was grim when he looked back to Mercurio. No more smiling. “Just sayin’ I wouldn’t get too comfy, kid.”</p><p>No matter what everyone else thought, too.</p><p>“Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.”</p><p>Mercurio trudged into the house.</p><p>“Hey, I could always be wrong!” Jack yelled as Beckett followed Mercurio inside. “That’d be pretty fuckin’ funny!”</p><p>Beckett slammed the door, leaving Jack to smoke on the porch alone.</p><p>“I apologize for him,” Beckett groaned. “Truly, I do. The Brujah have a long-standing animosity toward the Ventrue, and Jack is no exception. He’s particularly eager to see LaCroix’s attempt at expanding the Camarilla here fail, and I’m afraid you’re seen as an extension of his will.”</p><p>“What, even <em>now?”</em></p><p>Beckett eyed Mercurio. “You’re still working towards his goals to some extent, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Well, yeah, kinda, but... takin’ out a Sabbat foothold in town is in everybody’s best interest, ain’t it?”</p><p>Beckett frowned. “I suppose so.”</p><p>Mercurio looked down at himself. “Not that I can do much of anything right now.”</p><p>“I’ll get Cesare to loan you a change of clothes,” Beckett said. “Just for tonight. You’re about the same height and build, luckily.”</p><p>“Luckily,” Mercurio echoed, hating himself for just going along with it, but it wasn’t like he had much other choice. He couldn’t try to be buddy-buddy with other people’s ghouls on the grounds he used to be one—they’d only hate him more for it.</p><p>“The guest room’s down the hall,” Beckett added. “That won’t be where we spend the day, however. Just leave your clothes out and they’ll be cleaned during the day.”</p><p>“Full service, huh?”</p><p>“It will give something Cesare something more to do besides transcribing my tapes.”</p><p>“Uh... tapes?”</p><p>Beckett just smiled mysteriously and waved Mercurio along. “I’ll explain after you’ve cleaned up. Don’t worry about it for now.”</p><p>That was sure as hell easier said than done.</p>
<hr/><p>The voices were back with a vengeance, whispering about everything and nothing as Mercurio tried to focus on washing off the gunk he picked up running around the sewers and beyond. He wished he could say it was worse than working for LaCroix, but at least when he was breathing he didn’t feel like he had so little time to work with each night. As a ghoul he often went with little to no sleep for days on end, going hard until exhaustion finally caught up, now the sun came up and that was that—lights out, no avoiding it.</p><p>Vampirism was a hell of a cure for chronic insomnia.</p><p>Mercurio tried healing the hole in his arm in the shower and got as far as closing it before the gnawing hunger got to be too much. No way was he gonna push himself to frenzy as a guest at someone else’s safe house, though Jack would no doubt find that hilarious, too. </p><p>The wound still looked nasty, still ached whenever Mercurio tried to move his arm, but it was no longer a gaping hole in his flesh. Watching the skin knit back it was a trip. He was just glad his gag reflex didn’t trigger at the sight, but what was there to throw up? He hadn’t fed since... never mind.</p><p>Mercurio stepped out of the bathroom to find Cesare had slipped in at some point to take his dirty clothes and lay out some of his own. He desperately wanted to have a word with the guy, apologize and explain his earlier behavior was nothing personal, that he completely understood how hard the job was, but he had to keep reminding himself he wasn’t part of the help anymore. Sooner or later Knox was gonna find out, too. And Vandal. </p><p>“Ugh,” Mercurio muttered.</p><p>His cellphone was thoughtfully left out on the side table on a universal charger. It hadn’t suffered any damage after all.</p><p>No messages, thankfully.</p><p>Cesare, as it turned out, favored very nondescript suits—classic black, white shirt, nothing fancy. Mercurio couldn’t complain. Not openly, anyway. It made him feel too much like a modern button man, but it was better than nothing. He left the sleeves rolled up, at least until his arm was fully healed.</p><p>Beckett was waiting for him on the couch in the living room at the end of the hall, all cleaned up and wearing clothes almost identical to the ones Mercurio met him in, right down to the leather duster. Mercurio didn’t comment. Some older Kindred were just like that—they picked a look and stuck with it.</p><p>There wasn’t much personality in the house’s decor, Mercurio noticed. It was all strictly functional, looking like it had been picked up from secondhand shops. This was a place people crashed at when things were desperate, which still didn’t explain the flower garden out back. Maybe it was part of the exterior camouflage.</p><p>Beckett tossed a packet of blood over as soon as Mercurio sat down across from him. </p><p>“It truly is fortunate you’re not the same clan as LaCroix,” he remarked. “Otherwise we’d actually have to go hunting to discover your... <em>particular tastes</em>.”</p><p>Mercurio looked at the bag. It was type A and from the Santa Monica clinic. He tried not to think about Vandal’s sneering face as he used the tube like a straw. Beckett fell silent, watching him drink. If he was hoping Mercurio would offer up what kind of blood LaCroix went for out of the blue, he was gonna be sorely disappointed. After Mercurio drained all he could, he laid the crumpled bag on the coffee table.</p><p>“What?” He said after the silence dragged out uncomfortably long.</p><p>“Still loyal, eh?” Beckett chuckled. “That’s very admirable.”</p><p>“I ain’t ever been a rat.”</p><p>“Of course. Though it’s perhaps the lingering effects of the blood bond making you feel that way.”</p><p>“Maybe so,” Mercurio retorted. “But it’s still true. You want dirt on LaCroix, I ain’t the one it’s comin’ from.”</p><p>“You misunderstand,” Beckett said. “I have no intention of getting mired in the political morass of Los Angeles, but your bond to LaCroix could prove to be problematic.”</p><p>“Don’t you think I know that?!”</p><p>Mercurio didn’t mean to shout.</p><p>Jack stepped inside.</p><p>“Whoa, sorry.” He held his hands up like he was walking through a live firing range. “Just passin’ through. Gotta tend the flowers out back real quick.”</p><p>“And you couldn’t have gone around the outside?” Beckett sighed.</p><p>“What can I say?” Jack laughed as he slid the glass door open. “The fence is locked and I’m lazy.”</p><p>He winked at them before sliding it closed.</p><p>“That was just to remind us he’s here, wasn’t it?” Mercurio asked.</p><p>“No, he really is just that lazy,” Beckett replied. “But I have to admit his garden is impressive.”</p><p>“It’s <em>his?”</em> Mercurio glanced at the sliding glass door. Jack had turned on the outside lights, revealing an impressive collection of night flowering plants. “He doesn’t strike me as the type.”</p><p>“Everyone needs a hobby, I suppose.” Beckett put his feet up on the coffee table. “He told me the secret is he slips them a little vitae.”</p><p>“That sounds like a recipe for some Little Shop of Horrors bullshit.”</p><p>“I can’t say I’m familiar.”</p><p>“It’s... never mind.” Mercurio shook his head. “It’d take too long to explain.”</p><p>Jack tapped on the glass. “Hey asshole! Feet off the table!” He turned back to his flowers. “Fuckin’ Gangrel...”</p><p>Beckett sighed and did as Jack said. “He wouldn’t care if it we were absolutely anywhere else, honestly.”</p><p>“This is seriously his place?”</p><p>“He’s had it since the 50s, yes,” Beckett said. “Thus it comes complete with a fallout shelter in the back.”</p><p>“Oh. Fun.”</p><p>“The other Anarchs aren’t aware, so in exchange for him not mentioning anything about you, you’d also do well to keep your mouth shut.”</p><p>Mercurio nodded. It kinda figured a guy centuries older than the rest wouldn’t share <em>everything</em> with them. Mercurio wondered how that even worked, but if Jack only cared about fighting—and horticulture, apparently—then the rest was just details. Who knew how many young upstarts he saw come and go over the years? </p><p>He wondered what he’d stand for if he survived long enough to really have the chance to think about it. Having his schedule cut back to the night shift alone threw a wrench into his role as fixer, unless he wanted to rely on a network of ghouls, and... no. Just no. Mercurio didn’t even want to think about ghouls of his own. It felt wrong.</p><p>“You look troubled,” Beckett observed.</p><p>Mercurio laughed. “Yeah, go figure.” He leaned forward. “What were you sayin’ about tapes before, anyway?”</p><p>He didn’t care how clumsy a topic change it was, he didn’t want to talk about his own bullshit.</p><p>“Ah, yes.” Beckett reached into his coat. “I suppose you have a right to know.” He placed a small digital recorder on the coffee table. It was recording. “I’m told calling them ‘tapes’ is a bit of a misnomer now, but technology changes so quickly it’s rather hard to keep up. Rest assured I’m keeping everything about you private, unless you wish it otherwise.”</p><p>Mercurio stared at the recorder and its little red light, not sure how to feel about the revelation Beckett had recorded everything between them thus far. The anger he rightfully should’ve felt simply wasn’t there.</p><p>“Do people really try and fuck with your memories that much?”</p><p>“Not often,” Beckett admitted. “But better safe than sorry, I believe.” He picked the recorder back up. “I wish I could say this was helpful after Jerusalem. When Anatole...” He trailed off, unable to say it.</p><p>“Yeah, I gotcha.”</p><p>“But it was all just nonsensical raving.” Beckett put the recorder away. “Now it’s also good for tracking my... bad spells. Cesare transcribes everything, regardless of how strange it may get.”</p><p>“Is <em>that</em> why he drinks?”</p><p>Beckett grimaced. “He functions quite adequately, regardless. There was really no need for you to drive.”</p><p>“Sure, whatever,” Mercurio scoffed. “But maybe you should consider givin’ him time off now and again cause, in retrospect, I almost worked myself to death, too.”</p><p>He sat forward. “If your buddy Anatole hadn’t done what he did... I dunno, I got careless that night. Worryin’ too much about livin’ to see sixty, not fuckin’ up. Bad as I got beat, survivin’ without any other help woulda been a coin toss.”</p><p>Mercurio laughed mirthlessly, turning his ring round and round on his finger. Unlike his necklace, it had no real personal significance to him. He only wore it because it was heavy and did extra damage when punching someone.</p><p>“I guess technically I didn’t live to sixty, huh?”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Beckett said softly.</p><p>“Ah, forget about it.” Mercurio forced himself to smile. “No goin’ back now. I just wish Anatole was here now to fuckin’ explain why he did it.”</p><p>“So do I,” Beckett agreed. “Believe me, so do I...”</p><p>Jack poked his head inside. “Much as I hate to interrupt this precious moment, it’s gettin’ about time to head down to the shelter.”</p><p>Mercurio eyed Jack warily. “All of us?”</p><p>Jack grinned. “Hey, if you don’t like my natural musk it’s not like you gotta breathe, kid.”</p><p>“Stop fuckin’ callin me kid,” Mercurio snapped. “It ain’t like I found out vampires existed yesterday!”</p><p>He was up on his feet, but he’d be damned if he’d give into the Beast’s urging to attack. It didn’t seem to recall its previous desire to turn tail and run, but now that Jack was no longer smoking and joking about killing him it didn’t care about the odds.</p><p>“Yeah, but your ghoul time means fuck all now,” Jack retorted. “So you manage to survive two weeks and <em>maybe</em> I’ll stop. Maybe. That’s assumin’ you even get to keep your head.”</p><p>”Is that a bet?”</p><p>Jack laughed.</p><p>”Sure, kid, why not?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Yes, I stole the garden thing from the Gehenna novel. Couldn’t go so far as have Jack wear Cosby sweaters, though.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Interlude II</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Anatole has words with the Voerman sisters.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The night started uneventfully enough. Therese woke to the usual business to take care of—finance reports and an apology e-mail from Vandal. She wasn’t going bother replying to her own ghoul about his misstep, let him squirm until she next deigned to call him. She smirked at the thought, but her amusement died at an insistent pressure at the back of her mind.</p><p>“What is it, Jeanette?” She said aloud, annoyed.</p><p>“It’s my turn,” Jeanette whined. “You’ve taken care of everything you needed, haven’t you? It’s been over twenty-four hours now.”</p><p>Alone in the office, they didn’t need to be candid about their conversations with each another—or arguments, more often than not.</p><p>Therese sighed heavily and logged out of her personal computer. The last thing she needed was her sister snooping, but Jeanette likewise kept her sticker-covered laptop secured.</p><p>“Fine,” Therese snapped. “Just take a thorough bath this time. I hate to be the one to do it after your little... <em>romps</em>.”</p><p>Jeanette clapped her hands excitedly and leapt up from the desk chair with enough exuberance to send it spinning. First thing’s first, she tore her hair out of the librarian bun Therese kept it in, kicked off her heels, and padded over to her side of the room. Jeanette was in the middle of putting her hair up in its first ponytail when something caught her eye in the vanity mirror. Someone was sitting on her bed—someone who definitely wasn’t there when she passed by a moment ago. She spun around, bracing herself against the vanity so her hands could rest on the drawer containing her revolver.</p><p>The intruder was handsome, she had to give him that, but Jeanette wasn’t decent yet—that is, she wasn’t <em>indecent</em> in the way she liked. She only had the one pigtail done—very retro to have it on one side of her head, sure, but not her style lately—and she hadn’t wiped all of Therese’s dowdy makeup off yet. The split down the middle was very evident. <em>Too</em> evident. If she had her own eyeshadow on the side with the ponytail it would be comically apparent they shared a body.</p><p>Jeanette’s mind raced. How to play this? Therese was screaming at her to just shoot him and be done with it, but <em>Therese</em> wasn’t the one in control. Keeping one hand on the vanity table, Jeanette let the other drift down the front of Therese’s drab gray suit jacket.</p><p>“My,” she said, unbuttoning it so more of her pale cleavage was revealed. “You have me at the <em>quite</em> the disadvantage here.”</p><p>She shifted her perception to the intruder’s aura. The paleness of it was no surprise, given the pallor of his skin, but she was hoping for a better read of his intentions—or if he was open to seduction. What she saw instead was a swirling rainbow of colors, and lust was not among them. They were clanmates, that was all she could tell.</p><p>The strange Malkavian stood up from her heart shaped bed and bowed theatrically.</p><p>“Forgive me, O Daughter of Janus,” he said as he rose. There was a faint accent to his words. French? Ooh la la. “It was not my intent to give you the wrong impression by appearing in such a fashion.”</p><p>Daughter of Janus. She liked that. Jeanette giggled while Therese cursed her for being so easily taken in by such facile flattery. “And what do you mean by that?”</p><p>The stranger smiled. “I mean the last thing I want to do is fuck you.”</p><p>The harsh words didn’t match his expression or tone. Therese’s laughter broke through Jeanette’s shock. She covered her mouth. Not even clan was supposed to know about them. Or if they <em>did</em> know, via the Madness Network or otherwise, it was polite to act like they were truly separate entities who could be in the same place at the same time—in different bodies and everything.</p><p>“Oh, don’t worry,” the stranger said. “I know all about you and your sister. After all, I know your sires.”</p><p>“Jacob?!” Therese cried.</p><p>“Esau?!” Jeanette wailed.</p><p>The stranger nodded and smiled that eerily beatific smile.</p><p>“Just who the hell are you?” Therese demanded.</p><p>“Ah,” the stranger sighed. “I see my reputation does not precede me for once. How unfortunate.” Another, smaller bow. “I am Anatole.”</p><p>“The Prophet of Gehenna?!” Therese exclaimed, jumping to the front way more than Jeanette would like, but she was too rattled to stop it.</p><p>“That is what some people call me, yes.”</p><p>“Of course we know you,” Jeanette retorted, waving a hand dismissively. “I mean know <em>of</em> you. Who doesn’t? But nobody ever said you’d be hot! Who could have predicted that? Not me!” </p><p>Jeanette cackled at her own bad joke, only to be cut off abruptly by Therese hissing, “Oh, hush!”</p><p>“I’m still technically the one in control here, remember,” Jeanette said in a mocking sing-song. “Tonight is supposed to be all <em>mine</em>.”</p><p>“These are extraordinary circumstances, dear sister.”</p><p>“Indeed they are,” Anatole agreed. “For the message I bring is for the both of you.”</p><p>“Oh?” Jeanette cocked her head to the side with the ponytail, intrigued. Was it a prophecy concerning them?</p><p>Anatole nodded and stepped closer. “It concerns my childe.”</p><p>Jeanette twirled her hair around her finger. A little less exciting, but maybe this childe was hot, too. “And who would that be?”</p><p>“You received him here just last night.”</p><p>Jeanette froze. “<em>Oh</em>.”</p><p>“Yes. Him. I want you <em>both</em> to cease involving Mercurio in your petty sibling squabbles.” Anatole seemed to loom closer without taking a step. “Immediately.”</p><p>“Please believe me, sir,” Therese stammered, taking advantage of Jeanette’s petrified state. “Had we any idea you were <em>his</em> sire, we never—”</p><p>“Stop talking.”</p><p>She did as commanded.</p><p>“I don’t care about your excuses or your intentions,” Anatole said, his demeanor still unnervingly mild. It would have been better, Jeanette thought, if he showed some real anger—screamed at them, something—but instead he was like a kindly priest dealing with wayward parishioners. He made her feel dirty. Sinful. How the hell was that possible? Therese was too terrified to gloat about it.</p><p>“This farce of yours ends tonight,” Anatole continued. “When next you see Mercurio, you do whatever you must to fulfill your earlier promise to him. No extra steps. No sudden complications. And above all, no mention you ever saw me. If you don’t, I’ll be in touch with your sires.” That awful smile returned. “How do you think they’ll react to hearing you’re both still acting like children fighting over playthings in all that you do?”</p><p>“Please no,” Jeanette whimpered.</p><p>“We can do better,” Therese added, her voice very small.</p><p>Anatole eyed them, looking seriously doubtful.</p><p>“Really!” Jeanette said, holding her head higher. “We can work <em>together!”</em></p><p>“Then apply your newfound unity to ends other than tormenting my fledgling childe.”</p><p>Anatole at last broke eye contact and turned away. The feeling of having an ice pick wedged into their shared mindspace ceased. Jeanette sagged against the vanity. The thought of going for the gun in the drawer crossed her mind, but against an elder of Anatole’s reported caliber Therese told her she might as well just put it to their own head instead. As Anatole left the room, not bothering to shut the door behind him, Jeanette said the first thing that came to mind.</p><p>“<em>They</em> never cared for us like that.”</p><p>Sad but true. </p><p>Jeanette shivered, hoping Jacob or Esau couldn’t pick up on such treacherous thoughts over the cobweb. She opened up her laptop to send word to Bertram that it was safe to come out of hiding. Therese offered no objections, having fully retreated in the wake of the ordeal of facing the Prophet’s ire. Jeanette didn’t particularly relish having the time out anymore, either.</p><p>Message sent, all that was left was to wait for Mercurio.</p><p>She finished doing her hair and started working on her makeup in the meantime. It was hard to do with trembling hands, but she managed. After all, it didn’t matter how she felt, it only mattered how she looked.</p><p>And she looked <em>amazing</em>.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Anatole’s like a helicopter parent only he’s also hovering out of reach of his poor childe.</p><p>Also couldn’t resist echoing Beckett’s introductory line a little here.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Banes</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Mercurio delivers his first prophecy, Beckett meets another Gangrel in town, and Bertram Tung reveals himself.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here, have a real update. Not that Anatole’s shenanigans aren’t real, but Mercurio’s the star here.</p><p>CW: sexual coercion (that ultimately fails), brief bout of mania (poor Beckett)... it’s basically real (and honorary) Malkavian hours all this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sky was clouding over again, threatening more rain as they pulled up to the Asylum. Cesare had made a point not to drink, so he was driving. Beckett exchanged a few quiet words with him before getting out of the car. Mercurio didn’t bother trying to listen in as he stretched his legs and checked the sleeve of his suit. The patchwork was impressive, he could barely tell a hole had ever been there unless he looked closely. The same couldn’t be said of his arm when he pushed the sleeve back to examine it—there was still a angry red welt showing the last bit of bruising that had yet to heal, and the gnawing hunger in the pit of his stomach made Mercurio regret pushing it went he woke that evening.</p><p>He pulled his sleeve back down as the rental car pulled away. Beckett didn’t move to join him on the sidewalk outside the club, but instead moved to the diner across the street all the drunks typically spilled over to after last call. The name Surfside Diner on the flickering sign was a bit of a misnomer when they were quite a few blocks from the beach.</p><p>“I’ll just wait for you in here,” Beckett called, not that it was necessary when there was hardly any traffic. “Can’t stand discotheques, myself. The noise sets my teeth on edge.”</p><p>“No one calls them that anymore,” Mercurio called back. “But whatever, have fun staring at your coffee.”</p><p>Beckett tipped him a wry salute and stepped inside the diner. Mercurio turned his head skyward, watching the clouds roiling overhead for a moment before silently acknowledging he was stalling. The feeling of foreboding hanging over him couldn’t just be because he was returning to Therese empty-handed, he knew it, so he hesitated only a little when he found Jeanette waiting for him in the office upstairs.</p><p>“Your sister around?”</p><p>“What?” Jeanette’s face pulled into an exaggerated pout. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”</p><p>“It ain’t that,” Mercurio said, glancing around the room. A folding screen neatly divided it between Therese’s place of business and Jeannette’s pleasure corner. “I just have business with her is all. S’kinda important.”</p><p>“There’s nothing you can tell her you can’t also tell me,” Jeannette purred, moving closer. The voices whispered ‘lies’ over and over, and Mercurio believed them on that point. “She and I are sisters. We share <em>everything</em>.”</p><p>A sitcom chorus of laughter erupted in his head. Mercurio regretted letting the door shut behind him. He slipped away from Jeanette, but the only way to go was closer to her side of the room with its heart shaped bed and pink satin sheets. </p><p>“Okay, look.” He held his hands up as Jeanette followed him, hips swaying with every slow, deliberate step. “I couldn’t get anything from the hotel, alright? The place is just too fuckin’ haunted. One little trinket ain’t gonna help shit. It needs like an army of exorcists or somethin’. Tell Therese that I tried.”</p><p>“Oh, <em>that?</em>” Jeanette rolled her eyes. “That doesn’t matter anymore. The feud’s off.”</p><p>Mercurio’s mouth dropped open. The Beast snarled and gnashed inside him, suspecting treachery, and Jeanette’s full throated laughter at his shock didn’t help. Mercurio fought down the awful urge to pounce on her and turn the laughter into screaming, knowing he was realistically no match against any Kindred over a week old, no matter what the Beast wanted.</p><p>Jeanette’s laughter trailed off into a sigh. “The look on your face. So precious.” She held her fingers up to form a picture frame. “But it’s true. Therese agreed it’s all over, so if you’ve got business with Bertie he’ll probably be in touch before long.”</p><p>Mercurio didn’t want to think too hard about exactly how familiar Jeanette was with the Nosferatu.</p><p>“What about what I owe Therese?”</p><p>“You can owe me instead,”Jeanette said brightly. “Like I told you, we share everything. And what I want of you isn’t <em>nearly</em> as demanding.”</p><p>Mercurio kept his face carefully blank.<br/>
“Which is?”</p><p>“A kiss!” Jeanette held a finger up before he could protest. “A regular kiss, silly! Not a bite or a thimble!” She used that same finger to boop him on the nose while he was still processing what the hell she was saying. “Just a kiss!”</p><p>Bullshit. There had to be a catch.</p><p>“And I’m guessin’ you’re not lettin’ me go until I give it to you, huh?”</p><p>The chorus in his head was back to being an unhelpful cacophony of nonsense. It was pretty much just him and Jeanette, much as they were also apart of the Madness Network—or cobweb, or whatever the hell it was called.</p><p>“Ooh, Mercury,” Jeanette crooned. “You make it sound so <em>wicked</em> and depraved. It only has to be a teensy weensy little peck.” She tapped her cheek. “Over in a second and you’re done!”</p><p>Mercurio sighed and stepped closer. “Fuck. Okay. Fine. But only because I don’t want you houndin’ me about it later.”</p><p>Jeanette beamed. She stood up straighter, practically thrusting her tits into his face. Mercurio made note of the sateen fabric of her push-up bra, and the little diamond heart charm dangling from the easy-access front clasp, but that was all that caught his eye.</p><p>He couldn’t believe he was doing this, but Jeanette had no doubt asked people for more ridiculous things all the damn time. Mercurio kept his eyes open as he leaned in, not that it helped prepare him for what came next—it all happened too fast.</p><p>Jeanette grabbed him by the lapels and  used a combination of unholy strength and some kind of MMA move to fling him onto the bed. The next thing he knew, she was straddling him with a huge, predatory grin on her face, fangs fully extended.</p><p>“Changed my mind,” she said sweetly. “I want more.”</p><p>“Are you fuckin’ crazy?!”</p><p>“Why, yes,” Jeanette replied without hesitation. “But then so are you, so I’m in good company, aren’t I?”</p><p>Mercurio struggled against Jeanette, but it was like a steel beam was sitting on top of him. How the hell did she know Potence? Who the hell would even think about—? </p><p>Oh. Bertram Tung.</p><p>Fear and outrage was riling the Beast to the extreme. Mercurio grit his teeth, hating that his fangs extending gave away whenever it was close to the forefront in any way.</p><p>“Shh.” Jeanette stroked his cheek. “I’m not gonna hurt you, duckling.”</p><p>Mercurio hissed and jerked his head away. Too close, the Beast was too close to breaking loose, and he seriously doubted Jeanette could corral it the same way Beckett could. It was taking all Mercurio’s willpower to keep it under control, and more and more he wondered why he bothered fighting.</p><p>“I’ve had such a terrible night.” Jeanette leaned into Mercurio’s chest, further pinning him to the bed. “All I want is for someone to tell me I’m pretty. That I’m desirable. Is that so much to ask?”</p><p>“Lady,” Mercurio said through grit teeth. “You’re askin’ the wrong guy.”</p><p>Jeanette pushed herself back up, careful to keep her hands on Mercurio’s chest so she was still pressing him down. “But even you can recognize true beauty, right? Objectively?”</p><p>The light behind her head shone like a halo. Her alabaster skin begged to be touched. Her Cupid’s bow lips begged to be kissed. And indeed, who could resist? She was sex incarnate. </p><p>Mercurio blinked. That wasn’t what he really thought. Not at all. She was using that fucking mind trick Kindred did sometimes. Presence, that was it. LaCroix certainly loved that one, but where the fuck did Jeanette learn all this shit?</p><p>Ex-lovers, probably, but that also meant she was way more powerful than he ever imagined.</p><p>“Well?” Jeanette pressed him hard enough to hurt. Any harder and ribs would crack. “What do you think?”</p><p>“I think...” Mercurio trailed off. Between fighting the Beast and dealing with the physical and mental pressure Jeanette was exerting, forming words was hard. He tried again. “I think...”</p><p>Jeanette leaned closer, eager for validation.</p><p>Something in Mercurio snapped, but it wasn’t what he expected. The roaring of the Beast was gone. So were the voices. All that remained were words that desperately needed to be spoken.</p><p>“Black and white, turning end over end, one face laughing, the other scowling.” He smirked at Jeanette, who recoiled away from him. “You are the white mask, always merry, but your heart is a black hole that consumes all, never satisfied.”</p><p>Jeanette got off him, scrambling off the bed entirely. She backed away as Mercurio sat up, nearly tripping over the plush cushion facing her vanity. </p><p>“This yearning will eat away at you from within,” Mercurio continued, his voice cold and relentless in its delivery.“Leaving nothing, not even the white, unless you find balance.”</p><p>Jeanette’s back hit the wall as he kept speaking, the words flowing from his mouth like water from a broken dam.</p><p>“You are no true daughter of Janus. Not yet. It isn’t enough to have two sides, you must <em>see</em> both sides.”</p><p>He moved closer, stopping at the vanity mirror.</p><p>“As you are now, you always have a blind spot. Learn to survive as gray or perish.”</p><p>That was it. The spell broke. Mercurio wobbled like a puppet with its strings cut, nearly collapsing against the vanity. He backed away.</p><p>“Ugh!” Jeanette clawed at the sides of her head. “I already said we’d work together, okay?!”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>Mercurio felt dazed. He had no idea what just happened, much less what anything he just said was supposed to mean. He felt like he was outside himself the entire time, disconnected while at the same time horribly in sync with something indescribable. </p><p>It made no sense. He wasn’t sure he wanted it to make sense.</p><p>Worst of all, he felt more drained than ever—spiritually, physically, emotionally. If this was his special power, he wanted none of it.</p><p>“Forget it!” Jeanette stepped forward and grabbed the closest thing at hand to throw at Mercurio, which was her own laptop. It thankfully sailed clear past him and landed squarely on the bed behind him. “Take your shitty prophecy and get the fuck out!”</p><p>She didn’t have to tell him twice. Mercurio hurried out of the room and cursed the elevator as it slowly made its way up to the third floor. Fucking things were always doing this shit to him at the worst possible times. No cry of despair came from the office as Mercurio waited, so he took that to mean the laptop survived getting thrown across the room. The mattress was memory foam, after all, something he would’ve found morbidly funny before tonight. </p><p>The elevator arrived at last, and Mercurio made his escape. </p><p>He had no idea what he was gonna tell Beckett.</p>
<hr/><p>Mercurio didn’t get the chance to say a word, as Beckett nearly ran into him as he stepped outside of the club. It looked like he was just about to brave to noise he claimed to hate so much.</p><p>“We need to go,” Beckett growled, grabbing Mercurio by the arm. “<em>Now</em>.”</p><p>Police sirens blared in the distance. Mercurio had a feeling they were heading their way.</p><p>“What did you do?”</p><p>“It wasn’t what I did,” Beckett said as he half-led, half-dragged Mercurio down the alley around the back of the club. “It was what the Kindred I encountered in that diner did.”</p><p>“Okay, then what did you <em>say?”</em></p><p>Beckett stopped, giving him a look that said he didn’t appreciate how quickly Mercurio caught on to him. They were in an odd intersection of dark alleyways entirely cut off from the streets. A manhole cover offered access to the sewers, and as Beckett pulled it back he said, “I was only trying to be friendly. I know so few Kindred in the area—and he was another Gangrel, no less!”</p><p>“Uh-huh. Sure.”</p><p>At Beckett’s insistent gesturing, Mercurio went first down into the sewers. He had only known Beckett one night, and he could already think of a hundred different ways he could potentially come to blows with another Kindred just by... well, by being Beckett.</p><p>Mercurio waited at the base of the ladder for Beckett to catch up. Again there was that feeling of being watched, but all he saw were rats nestled in the pipes running along the ceiling, their eyes gleaming in the dim light. Maybe that was it. Mercurio turned his attention back to Beckett as he fished something out of his bag.</p><p>“So what’s the plan now, Mr. Congeniality?”</p><p>Beckett had produced a map of the sewers. He slid his shades up to better examine it. “I’m assuming your haven is in Santa Monica, yes?”</p><p>“If by that you mean the apartment that defaulted to my haven when I got embraced, yeah, right. It’s over on Main Street.” Mercurio folded his arms. “And I’m pretty sure getting there woulda been faster if we just stayed topside.”</p><p>Beckett traced a winding route on the map with his finger. “Slight change of plans, I’m afraid. Can’t risk getting stopped for questioning. You know how it is with our lot.”</p><p>“I can’t believe the guy embraced literally two days ago isn’t the one fuckin’ this up for us,” Mercurio said as they walked single file with Beckett in the lead. “And you’re how old again?”</p><p>“That’s a very gauche question to ask of another Kindred, you know.”</p><p>“Right, so old enough to fuckin’ know better,” Mercurio confirmed. “Seriously, how do you get cops called to the scene by ‘just talking’ to a guy?”</p><p>“He was unstable,” Beckett replied. “Obviously new, but already showing marks of the Beast. That’s a very bad sign for one so young. I tried to offer some words of guidance, and he responded... <em>poorly</em>.”</p><p>“Back up a second,” Mercurio said. “What do ‘marks of the Beast’ mean?”</p><p>Without looking back, Beckett held up one clawed hand. “The Bane of my clan. To lose oneself too deeply to a frenzy in turn allows it to leave its mark upon us permanently.”</p><p>“So you frenzied so hard you ended up with cat eyes and claws?”</p><p>“These were separate occasions we’re speaking of, but essentially? Yes.”</p><p>“Shit.”</p><p>“Indeed.”</p><p>Mercurio almost regretted asking as an awkward silence fell. The only sound was the echoing of their footsteps and the occasional squeak of rats startled by their passing.</p><p>“Okay, so what about the other clans?” Mercurio asked. Fuck it, might as well. “What’re their problems? Banes. You know what I mean.”</p><p>Powers were easy to learn. Weaknesses weren’t something ghouls were supposed to know about, for obvious reasons. The only reason Mercurio knew the exact nature of the Ventrue’s Bane was he dealt with it directly. Some, like the Malkavian and Nosferatu, were pretty obvious, but he still wasn’t one-hundred percent sure about a few of the other clans. The Tremere, for instance, were just too fuckin’ weird for him to even hazard a guess.</p><p>Beckett chuckled. “To explain all their ‘problems’ would go beyond just Banes. There’s a long history to take into account with each as well.”</p><p>Mercurio groaned, wishing he hadn’t phrased it so poorly on the first try. “Which means you’re not gonna tell me, is that it?”</p><p>“Not right now, no.”</p><p>“Asshole.”</p><p>“<em>I</em> could tell you,” another voice said from out of nowhere.</p><p>Mercurio’s startled cry echoed through the tunnel. He spun around, nearly tripping backwards into Beckett, and came face to face with Bertram Tung. He grinned, showing a mouth full of misshapen fangs.</p><p>Goddamn Nosferatu. Dealing with them face to face never got easier.</p><p>“Funny story,” Tung said. “I suddenly get word Therese no longer wants my head, which is great and all, but as I go to poke around topside, who should come clomping through these sewers but the very same recently upgraded ghoul I’m also looking for?” He peered around Mercurio, arching a pierced eyebrow. “And Beckett too, for some weird reason.”</p><p>“Huh.” Mercurio glanced over his shoulder. “People really <em>do</em> know you.”</p><p>“Oh yeah, Beckett’s a bonafide Kindred celebrity, as if that’s something to be proud of.” Tung snickered. “Just like your sire. Only in Anatole’s case, <em>infamous</em> is probably a better word.”</p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p>“<em>Don’t,”</em> Beckett said sharply. At Mercurio’s confused look, he shook his head. “It’s complicated.” Beckett turned to Tung. “Just... let me be the one to explain. Please.”</p><p>“Suit yourself.” Tung held his gnarled hands up. “It’s not like anyone can really prove the stories beyond the shadow of a doubt, anyway. And I suppose the fact he’s the <em>Prophet</em> keeps him off the Red List, whatever the evidence.”</p><p>“<em>That’s enough,”</em> Beckett hissed.</p><p>“Right,” Tung said, taking a few steps back. “Sorry about that. Sometimes I think I just like the sound of my own voice.”</p><p>As if anybody could like the sound of his raspy voice, but therein lie the joke.</p><p>Mercurio cleared his throat. “About what we discussed before...”</p><p>“Yeah, as I was gonna say before I got sidetracked, I need a little time to re-settle, then check on a few things just to be safe.”</p><p>Mercurio’s shoulders sagged. Why was he even surprised?</p><p>“It won’t be long,” Tung said. “Just a night or two. You got the stuff for the job, right?”</p><p>“Of course.”</p><p>Mercurio left out the bit about how he pretty much died getting it.</p><p>“Perfect!” Tung took another step back, firing finger guns at him. Maybe there was another reason he chose Knox as a ghoul. They were both over-talkative dorks, Tung just hid it slightly better. “I’ll be in touch, then. Take care.”</p><p>He vanished before their eyes and Beckett, who’d been unnervingly quiet ever since they moved on from the subject of Anatole, wasted no time continuing on through the tunnels. Mercurio had to run to catch up to him or end up lost in the sewers.</p>
<hr/><p>“Are you okay?” Mercurio asked Beckett as soon as they were inside his apartment.</p><p>“I’m fine,” Beckett said as he eyed the living room and its potentially lethal windows. “<em>This</em> is your haven?”</p><p>Mercurio took offense to that. Sure, the location was shit for feeding and there were too many damn windows in almost every room, but it was a <em>nice</em> place.</p><p>“Like I told you before, I was breathing when I signed the lease, so ‘convenient to vampires’ didn’t exactly factor in, seeing as the boss never sleeps over.”</p><p>Not that he didn’t dream about it sometimes. Disturbingly vivid dreams, if that.</p><p>“Ah, yes.” Beckett took a seat on the couch. “<em>LaCroix</em>.”</p><p>“The Prince,” Mercurio added. “Meaning I’m double fucked, remember? Not only am I an unsanctioned embrace, his personal property got poached in the process.” He gestured vaguely at his suddenly unsatisfactory digs. “This is all just... borrowed time.”</p><p>“Not necessarily.” Beckett put his feet up on the coffee table. Mercurio didn’t care—he did it all the time, too. “The Ventrue place a great deal of stock in lineage. Lesser so with other clans, granted, but you’re the Prophet’s childe.”</p><p>“Yeah, uh, about that.” Mercurio sat down at the opposite end of the couch. “I... well, I kinda wish I carried around tape recorders like you do now.”</p><p>Beckett turned to fully face him. “Did something happen in the Asylum?”</p><p>“Things got a little heated with Jeanette.” Mercurio rubbed the back of his neck. “She was... comin’ on strong, let’s put it that way. I was feelin’ like I was gonna frenzy any second, but instead I... I dunno... I was aware of what I was sayin’ and yet... not? Like I couldn’t repeat any of it now if I tried. Something about masks, and black holes and...” Mercurio yanked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Fuck! It’s been too long, like when you wake up from a dream and all the details fade away afterwards. All I know is it upset Jeanette so much she called it a shitty prophecy and ran me out of the room so... yeah. That happened.”</p><p>Beckett frowned thoughtfully through the explanation.</p><p>“To be frank,” he said. “As eloquently put as that was just now, I dearly wish I could’ve heard what you said to Ms. Voerman.”</p><p>Mercurio gave him the dirtiest look imaginable.</p><p>“I’m serious.” Beckett leaned closer. The look in his eyes was unsettling, and given he had gleaming cat eyes by default, that was saying something. “When tapped into whatever it is that leads one to... speak prophecies, or what have you, they sound different. Unlike themselves. I have proof of that, though I was never able to make heads or tails of what it meant.”</p><p>“You mean your own recordings?”</p><p>“Yes, precisely!” Beckett grabbed him by the arms. “You could be the key to finally making sense of it all! I’m not as in tune with it as you or Anatole are—not when you have the true gift of prophecy! It’s all just torturous noise and nonsense to me!”</p><p>His pupils were blown wide again as he ranted, like a cat ready to pounce. The chorus in Mercurio’s head was stirred into a fever pitch. Somehow he knew it was just as bad for Beckett, like a guitar string between them being frantically strummed. Mercurio squirmed under Beckett’s grasp. His claws were digging into his arms a little too hard.</p><p>“Hey, uh, much as I wanna help,” Mercurio said slowly. “I just got this suit patched up.”</p><p>Beckett blinked. His pupils contracted back to their usual slits. He let go of Mercurio and stood up, putting his back to him.</p><p>“I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what—” he stopped himself, because they both knew exactly what came over him.</p><p>“Look.” Mercurio stood up, but hesitated to touch Beckett in his currently delicate state. “I know you don’t wanna be hearin’ this—not what I’m sayin’ right now, but... y’know. The voices. I don’t either. But... I understand. The thing is, I don’t think any of it can be quantified or explained all that easily. Not like you want. It’s fuckin’ insane.”</p><p>Beckett uttered a sad little chuckle. “That’s shockingly eloquent in its own way.”</p><p>Mercurio lightly nudged him in the shoulder—not quite a real punch, but damned if he didn’t feel like doing it sometimes. “See, this is why that guy attacked you.”</p><p>“He threw a gumball machine at me, to be precise.”</p><p>“Damn.” Mercurio whistled. “Points for style.”</p><p>“When I dodged it he absconded through the same window it shattered.”</p><p>“I guess you wanna find him, huh?”</p><p>“It’s still early in the evening,” Beckett observed. “And I doubt he knows how to properly cover his tracks yet. We should hurry, before the rain starts and ruins the trail.”</p><p>“I’m gonna need to change first.”</p><p>Beckett grinned. “So will I.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>A wolf running through downtown Santa Monica, you might be saying, that’s crazy!</p><p>Just wait, I can make it worse.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Manhunt</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dealing with the Southland Slasher (and Mercurio’s Hunger)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More fun with selectively acknowledging aspects of V5. </p><p>Touchstones? Eh, in a little bit...</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Mercurio slouched low in the front passenger seat of the rental car, arms folded as he watched Cesare interpret directions yipped from the wolf sticking its nose out the cracked backseat window.</p><p>“This has gotta be the most ridiculous Masquerade work around I ever heard.”</p><p>“You’d be surprised,” Cesare said, taking the next turn. “There was this one time, when dealing with customs—”</p><p>Beckett growled.</p><p>“Never mind.”</p><p>It was still better than trying to get away with walking a wolf on a leash, but only marginally. They had to stay moving, Beckett couldn’t do more than stick his nose out the window, and if they idled anywhere too long the jig was up.</p><p>“We’re going in circles,” Mercurio observed.</p><p>“The trail is confusing, I think.” Cesare took another turn, taking them down a  street that wound around the edge of Santa Monica. “Either it’s the city scents, or our quarry is running scarred. Perhaps a little of both.”</p><p>Mercurio nodded thoughtfully, realizing this was the most he and Cesare had ever spoken since their awkward meeting the night before.</p><p>“Hey, uh...” Mercurio cleared his throat, not sure where to begin apologizing, but Beckett uttered a weird yelp and Cesare slammed on the brakes before he could find the right words.</p><p>The white shape in Mercurio’s peripheral vision warped and changed. He didn’t turn his head for a better look—seeing Beckett shift the first time was weird enough.</p><p>“This is it,” Beckett announced, grabbing his bag from the floorboards. “The trail ends here. Judging by how rife the place is with his scent, he’s made it his haven.”</p><p>Mercurio peered out the window at the rusty sign reading ‘Brothers Salvage’ that he’d driven by without much notice countless times in the past—but that was during the day. The gate looked pretty damn foreboding in the middle of the night.</p><p>“An abandoned junkyard?”</p><p>“What better place for a mad dog to be?” Beckett tapped Cesare’s seat. “Drop us off a few blocks away. If he hasn’t noticed us yet, let’s not alert him with the slamming of car doors.”</p><p>“Right,” Mercurio said, rolling his eyes. “Just the screechin’ of tires.”</p><p>Beckett kicked the back of his seat. “This will give us the opportunity to approach from a different angle as well.”</p><p>“Mr. Beckett knows what he’s doing,” Cesare said, as sure in that as the blood bond could make him—or he knew better and he was just saying it to kiss up. Same difference, really, because Cesare would do whatever Beckett asked regardless of what he really thought of him. That’s what it meant to be a ghoul—absolute, unwavering loyalty. The vitae demanded it.</p><p>Mercurio thought about LaCroix and sighed heavily.</p><p>“He does,” Cesare insisted, misunderstanding. “Really!”</p><p>“That ain’t what I’m worried about.”</p><p>“I can handle things if a fight proves unavoidable,” Beckett assured him. “Just stay behind me.”</p><p>“That ain’t it, either.” Mercurio grumbled and opened the door as soon as they arrived at the drop-off point. The lack of blood in his own system was putting him on edge, he knew. He rubbed his mostly healed arm, having changed into clothes that didn’t smell like the sewers and a long coat that gave him more opportunities to stash weapons. He almost threw a Kevlar vest on out of habit, before remembering claws would slice through it like a hot knife through butter. Better to save it for when he found himself up against mortal threats again—assuming he got the luxury of surviving that long.</p><p>Beckett chided him for bringing guns before shifting to wolf form finally shut him up, but Mercurio wasn’t about to explain how he spent years making his own bullets and shells specifically for use against vampires. It wasn’t because he ever thought of turning on LaCroix, it was because he was realistic about LaCroix’s enemies—like practically every goddamn Kindred in LA these nights.</p><p>Mercurio just never expected to be using the ammo as one Kindred against another. This would be the first real field test, as well. Hopefully the gun didn’t blow up in his face. Yeah, and hopefully it wouldn’t come to that at all, but from what Beckett had said about the other Gangrel, chances for a peaceful resolution weren’t high.</p><p>“Did you even get this guy’s name before he tried to gumball you to death?” Mercurio asked.</p><p>“Unfortunately not,” Beckett said. “But as it turns out, I’ve picked up his scent before—at the Santa Monica Pier.”</p><p>Mercurio stopped walking. Beckett got a few steps ahead before turning back to face him, his expression totally innocent.</p><p>“Don’t you think you shoulda mentioned that before?!” Mercurio snapped. He adopted his best approximation of Beckett’s accent for the next bit. He had plenty of practice mocking LaCroix—mostly to himself, never in mixed company. “Oh, and just so you’re aware, this fellow we’re after? Could very well be connected with that gruesome little murder on the pier! Steady as you go, then!”</p><p>“First, I do <em>not</em> sound like that. Second, I was too focused on not losing the scent.” Beckett counted his points off on his clawed fingers, but the edge in his voice hinted he was subtly reminding Mercurio they were as permanent—ready for use at a moment’s notice. “Besides, what would it really change? We already know the Beast has a firm hold on him. That scene at the pier was only further evidence of such.”</p><p>Mercurio clenched his fingers around an imaginary throat. He mentally counted to three and let go. “Yeah, and it’s gonna be fuckin’ mutual if you don’t quit jerkin’ me around like you do.”</p><p>“Duly noted,” Beckett replied, and for once he didn’t smirk as he said it. He didn’t apologize, either—but hey, baby steps.</p>
<hr/><p>Mercurio didn’t voice the fact he had a bad feeling about what they were doing. It didn’t mean much when he seemed to have have bad feelings about fucking everything ever since his embrace. Was it something about Los Angeles? Or just a Malkavian thing? Maybe both? He’d have to ask Beckett if they got out of the junkyard alive.</p><p>“We’re just here to talk, right?” Mercurio whispered. “Try and make him see reason?”</p><p>“Ideally,” Beckett whispered back as they skulked through the stacks of crushed cars. “Which means you having a shotgun doesn’t help appearances much.”</p><p>Mercurio glanced at the shotgun he was holding, the one piece of his arsenal he couldn’t easily conceal, and wondered if Beckett had any idea of what else he was carrying. “This is only for if negotiations breakdown.”</p><p>Beckett shushed him and pointed upwards.</p><p>Someone was running atop the stacks parallel to them—towards the most precarious pile of cars. Beckett and Mercurio had the same thought.</p><p>“Goddamned nosy vampire!” The killer roared, sending the rusty shell of a Volkswagen Beetle flying. They were scattering in opposite directions before it crashed into the other piles of junk. </p><p>“You ruined everything tonight!” His voice echoed all through the junkyard. Mercurio looked around but saw no sign of Beckett. The killer, sounding on the verge of tears, was still ranting. “I had them right where I wanted and you... you...!” He howled in rage and took off running again.</p><p>“Look man,” Mercurio called. “Our mutual acquaintance is a fuckin’ asshole, I know, but this is all just a big misunderstandin’!”</p><p>A voice whispered ‘<em>behind you</em>’ like he was in the climax of some cheap supernatural thriller, and Mercurio drove out of the way just as the stacks behind him toppled. Pretty sneaky, circling back around like that. The mess left Mercurio cut off in a relatively clear area that looked uncomfortably like an arena, still with no sign of Beckett or the killer in his sights. </p><p>Mercurio moved slowly into the clearing. There was one way left out, and it was too damn far away.</p><p>“Seriously, I don’t wanna hurt you unless I have to!”</p><p>Right, as if he ever had the upper hand here.</p><p>The killer laughed. He was still close. “As if guns can hurt me now.”</p><p>“Then why don’t you come down here and we’ll test that out?”</p><p>The killer obliged, landing right in front of Mercurio, who leveled the shotgun at him out of sheer reflex.</p><p>The guy didn’t look like much up close—tall and wiry, with red hair slicked back and dark circles that really made the green of his eyes pop. Those weren’t inhuman like Beckett’s yet, but his claws looked worse—longer, bone white instead of black. His dingy white tank top exposed the other mark, almost passable as an elaborate tattoo at a glance, but his right arm was covered in shark skin from the shoulder to elbow. Weird, Mercurio never considered the possibility of marks being from aquatic predators, but then he’d also known about them for like an hour, so who knew what else was possible? </p><p>Remembering how delicate the situation was, Mercurio made a big show of lowering the shotgun.</p><p>“Why are you here?” The killer demanded. “What do you want?”</p><p>Mercurio kept the shotgun pointed down, finger nowhere near the trigger. “Hard as it might be to believe, my buddy—” he raised his voice to carry. “Wherever the fuck he might be.” But still no Beckett. “Is genuinely concerned about you. Mostly because you’re the same clan.”</p><p>“The fuck does that even mean?” </p><p>Mercurio stared at him. “You seriously don’t know.”</p><p>The killer scoffed. “The bastard who did this too me left me for dead. I had to figure everything out for myself.”</p><p>“Yes,” Beckett sighed, appearing right behind the killer. Good to know he hadn’t been unceremoniously crushed under a Volvo. “Gangrel have an unfortunate habit of doing that, I must admit.”</p><p>The killer hissed and spun around, lashing out at Beckett, who caught his arm easily. He clicked his tongue at him chidingly. “It’s not good to let the Beast stay so close to the surface. Keep that up and you’ll end up with far more scales.”</p><p>“What does it matter?” The killer snapped, jerking his arm back as Beckett let go. “As long as I can get the job done I don’t care if I grow fucking horns!”</p><p>“What job?” Mercurio was tempted to raise the shotgun, but no, still just friends here. Just asking questions.</p><p>“You wouldn’t understand.”</p><p>He didn’t know to avoid eye contact with Kindred. The killer glowered at Mercurio while Beckett subtly blocked his one escape.</p><p>“<em>Tell me</em>,” Mercurio commanded.</p><p>The killer’s lip pulled into a snarl, but he couldn’t resist. “The bastards who killed my family. I got three so far. I could’ve taken down two at once tonight.” He turned to glare at Beckett. “If not for you.”</p><p>“Ah.” Beckett looked slightly embarrassed. “So that’s what that call at the payphone was for, was it?”</p><p>“None of this is any of your goddamn business!” The killer howled. “Why won’t you just back off?!”</p><p>“Cause there are rules,” Mercurio said. “You go around leavin’ bodies flayed open like you did, get people wonderin’ what could’ve made wounds like that, it kinda risks exposin’ vampires to the world.”</p><p>“Yes,” Beckett added. “We have this little thing called the Masquerade. It’s rather important.”</p><p>“I don’t care!”</p><p>Mercurio raised the shotgun. “You better start.”</p><p>Beckett gave him a warning look over the killer’s shoulder.</p><p>“I’m dead serious,” Mercurio said. “You leave a trail of mangled bodies everywhere you go and you’ll have to be put down like a mad dog.”</p><p>“Is that what you think I’m doing?” The killer laughed in his face. “I told you, I’ve only killed three people so far. How many have <em>you</em> killed, vampire?”</p><p>The words were like a slap. Mercurio’s finger twitched closer to the trigger. The Beast howled at him to cast the gun aside and just tear his throat out with his fangs.</p><p>Beckett cleared his throat. “It’s the ‘so far’ that’s concerning here.”</p><p>“I’m only interested in the fuckers who killed my family,” the killer insisted. “I don’t even feed on people, just animals! And after the last two are dead...”</p><p>He trailed off. Mercurio didn’t like how thoughtful he looked.</p><p>“No,” he said, pumping the shotgun. “Nuh-uh. You don’t get to play vampire vigilante. Nobody does. That’s not now any of this works.”</p><p>“I don’t care about your rules!” The killer finally swiped the shotgun away. “At least I’ve <em>done</em> something with my power!”</p><p>“But that power comes with a price,” Beckett said, tone still mild and in control. “The Beast will utterly consume you if you let it, turning you into something truly monstrous.” He smirked as the killer rounded on him. “You’ve got a few scales and claws now, but keep giving in to what it urges you to do, and more marks will appear. Your own family, in time, wouldn’t even be able to recognize you.”</p><p>“My family is <em>dead!”</em></p><p>“Yeah,” Mercurio said. “But I found out recently ghosts are a thing. Saw proof. Hell, I got attacked by ‘em. Probably shouldn’t have been surprised. I mean, vampires are a thing, right? Stands to reason ghosts are real, too.”</p><p>The killer’s attention jerked back to him, eyes wide. “Ghosts?”</p><p>Mercurio nodded grimly. “I’m just sayin’, what if your family is still lingerin’ around? What if they can see what you’re doin’ with all the... terrible purpose and the horror show theatrics. The way you mangled and strung that guy up was just...”</p><p>“No!” The killer wailed, dropping to his knees. “Oh god, no! I’m sorry!”</p><p>Mercurio took a step back. He didn’t really expect that tactic to work. Beckett gave him an odd look as the killer pounded the dirt and wept apologies to his dead wife and child—hard to tell if he was impressed or what. Mercurio just shrugged in response.</p><p>“Er, yes, well...” Beckett knelt down beside the killer. “It’s still not too late to redeem yourself. Turn over a new leaf, as it were. I think I know some like minded Kindred who might help you. They’re also not much for rules.”</p><p>He glanced up at Mercurio, who bit his tongue to keep from commenting.</p>
<hr/><p>Mercurio waited in the car with Cesare as it idled around the corner from the Last Round. Being downtown at all put him on edge, though they weren’t anywhere near Venture Tower.</p><p>The killer’s name was Sean Grady. His dead wife and child were Eileen and Abby. That was as talkative as he got on the drive over to meet his new comrades, assuming they accepted a serial killer in their ranks—though was he technically a serial killer after only three kills? In any case, he swore he’d call his hunt off.</p><p>It didn’t matter that they were dangerously close to where he laid his trap for the last two guys, enough time had passed that they thought their mysterious contact had stood them up, so they left. The voices were being unusually helpful tonight in their own way. Chanting some children’s rhyme with lines including ‘fly away home’ was better than the usual random bursts of crying, among other static constantly droning in his head.</p><p>“Can I turn the radio on?” Mercurio asked.</p><p>“If you want.” Cesare was eyeing the street, anxiously awaiting Beckett’s reappearance around the corner. The way the ghoul kept fidgeting made Mercurio painfully aware of how still he was now that he was a vampire. “Just not too loud.” A pause, remembering he was talking to one of his betters. “Please.”</p><p>Mercurio tuned to the classic rock station he liked, silently cursing the fact what used to be chart topping hits was about to slide completely off into darkest oldies territory, and turned the volume down so it was just loud enough to ground him against everything else.</p><p>“Mr. Beckett does that too sometimes,” Cesare observed. “Though he prefers classical music.”</p><p>“Everything was new at one point,” Mercurio muttered under his breath.</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“Never mind. Just talkin’ to myself.”</p><p>“He does that now and again, too.”</p><p>“Hey, uh, when did...” Mercurio glanced to the street. No sign of Beckett yet. “You know, when did he...”</p><p>“I’m really not at liberty to talk about such things, Mr. Mercurio,” Cesare said coldly. “Ask Mr. Beckett. If he trusts you, he’ll share the transcripts.”</p><p>“Okay,” Mercurio said. “Then as a former ghoul to a current ghoul, maybe don’t speak so candidly about your master’s quirky habits. Like don’t give away that he’s kinda crazy now. Just a tip.”</p><p>Cesare’s cheeks flushed. Got him there, but Mercurio didn’t really want to make things even worse between them. “Sorry. I’m just... hungry is all.”</p><p>And Cesare was a warm body sitting right next to him in a small, enclosed space. Mercurio tried to focus on the radio instead of his heartbeat. Three songs played, then the station went to commercials. Beckett needed to hurry the fuck up already.</p><p>Cesare swallowed nervously. “Can I ask you a question?”</p><p>“Not like we’re goin’ anywhere,” Mercurio replied. “Shoot.”</p><p>“What was it like?” Before Mercurio could ask if he meant the junkyard confrontation, Cesare turned to face him. His face flushed again, this time in excitement. “What <em>is</em> it like, I mean? Being one of them?”</p><p>“Oh.” Mercurio grimaced. “You’re really better off as a ghoul. Wanna know why?”</p><p>Cesare nodded.</p><p>“Because I keep lookin’ at the pulse at your throat and a part of me keeps screamin’ to just dig in, and the only thing that’s stoppin’ me is I had way too much practice keepin’ my cool, cause one step out of line, one wrong fuckin’ word, and my master’d kill me without a thought and have me replaced.”</p><p>That wasn’t really true, was it? LaCroix needed him, appreciated him, lov—nope, nope, nope. Mercurio had gone back and forth on the reality of his situation way too many times. He opened the car door. </p><p>“What are you doing?” Cesare asked, sounding surprised and maybe even a little dismayed.</p><p>“Pop the trunk,” Mercurio said.</p><p>“What?!”</p><p>Mercurio caught his eye under the dome light. “<em>Do it.”</em></p><p>The street was empty. No one was around to see him as he climbed in to curl up next to the rental’s spare tire. Once the trunk was closed he could see the glow-in-the dark emergency release all new cars had, but the important thing was he was no longer in the same space with Cesare.</p><p>So this was what it felt like for people trussed up in trunks getting carted off to a secondary location. The nice thing was Mercurio was right next to the rear speaker, so he could still listen to the radio.</p><p>The trunk opened in the middle of Jethro Tull’s Locomotive Breath. Beckett peered down at him with the usual smirk.</p><p>“You could have just waited outside the car, you know.”</p><p>“What if somebody walked by?”</p><p>“You also could have taken the time to hunt while I was gone.”</p><p>“Sure, but...”</p><p>“You’re afraid of losing control.”</p><p>“Bingo.”</p><p>Beckett offered a hand. “Come with me. We’re in the middle of the city’s rack, so now now is as good a time as any to do this.”</p><p>As he climbed at out of trunk, Mercurio noticed Beckett’s skin was slightly warm to the touch. That explained why he was gone so long. Mercurio felt like a fool. He knew he’d have to feed for real sooner or later—tap into a vein completely by his own choice, he just didn’t want to think about it.</p><p>Beckett smiled reassuringly, an expression that obviously didn’t come naturally to him. “I’m sure Cesare will be happy to wait a little longer if it means you stop staring at him like a piece of meat.”</p><p>“He told you about that, huh?”</p><p>“He’s my trusted servant,” Beckett said blithely. “We share much more than just vitae.”</p><p>Mercurio arched an eyebrow.</p><p>“Oh, don’t be crass. I wouldn’t assume the same about you and LaCroix, now would I?”</p><p>“Right.” Mercurio slammed the trunk shut. “Of course not.”</p><p>He fucking wished.</p>
<hr/><p>“Your man’s too damn chatty for his own good,” Mercurio said as Beckett once again led the way.</p><p>“I assure you it’s not always so,” Beckett replied. “But you’re the first Kindred he’s encountered who used to be like him, naturally he’s excited to be around you.”</p><p>“And here I was thinkin’ he hated my guts after how things started with us.”</p><p>“I know him better than you do.” Beckett chuckled. “If Cesare didn’t like you, or if he was truly afraid of you, he’d be as good as a decorative statue. He’s not without survival instincts around our ilk, you’ll find.”</p><p>“You shouldn’t have left me alone in the car with him.”</p><p>“Again, I assumed you’d hunt.”</p><p>“Well, then, don’t assume!”</p><p>Beckett shushed him. Mercurio was about to get really pissed, his fangs extending, when Beckett pointed to a figure huddled in an alcove.</p><p>It was a sleeping homeless person.</p><p>Mercurio’s mouth dropped open. He wanted to protest, but his fangs were already out, and it was an undeniably easy target.</p><p>“I’ll be watching,” Beckett whispered. “Don’t worry.”</p><p>Mercurio nodded. He wasn’t sure whether or not to be grateful that all the usual signs of nerves were gone. His hands didn’t tremble in the slightest as he reached out for the sleeping figure. He had no pulse to flutter with anxiety, but damn if he didn’t feel it as he exposed the poor woman’s throat.</p><p>Once he bit down, all Mercurio’s reservations vanished. The woman barely stirred as he drank, uttering a contented sigh as the kiss no doubt did strange things to her dreams. The taste of her blood was cloying and bittersweet, not at all what Mercurio expected. She existed in a fog, having all but given up on life as she focused on simply surviving day to day, and that flavored her blood accordingly. It was disturbing how good that made it taste, actually. Mercurio saw Beckett looming out of the corner of his eye and forced himself to pull away, remembering to lick the marks left by his fangs. The woman shivered, but no trace of the act remained once Mercurio stood back up.</p><p>“There,” Beckett said, smiling proudly. “Perhaps you didn’t need me here after all.”</p><p>“I dunno about that.” </p><p>Mercurio quickly put some distance between himself and the woman. It was more the fear of disappointing Beckett, of having to be pulled off, that made Mercurio do it himself. Had he been alone, he wasn’t sure if the thought of Beckett ever would have crossed his mind. He licked his lips. The taste of apathy still lingered on his tongue like menthol smoke.</p><p>“Never realized it could taste like that,” Mercurio muttered.</p><p>“It’s different when it’s not out of a bag, isn’t it?” Beckett patted him on the back. “That’s the Resonance you’re tasting. Emotions flavor the blood. There are a number of rather tedious papers on the subject, many of them by one of your own clan, as it so happens—a Dr. Douglas Netchurch.”</p><p>“Oh yeah?” Mercurio glanced over. “What’s he like?”</p><p>“Terrible bore. Absolutely insufferable, really.”</p><p>Mercurio laughed. Beckett fished his recorder from his coat pocket and added, “Cesare, strike that last bit from the record.”</p><p>“Ain’t these recordings supposed to be the whole truth?”</p><p>“Only as far as I absolutely must remember.”</p><p>Mercurio hummed thoughtfully as Beckett put the recorder away. What else had been left off the record, he wondered?</p><p>Best not to ask.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I tried looking up video let’s plays to refresh my memory of the dialogue choices of the confrontation, and not one had the stats required to even have the option to talk him down. Tsk.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. Countdown</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Warehouse goes boom, but not before a pit stop at Trip’s Pawn Shop.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Here we go, back to the main questline.</p><p>Oh, and everybody say hello to Mercurio’s main touchstone to mortality, if not morality: Trip.</p><p>CW: visions of gore, plus conversational mention of mention of vomit and gore.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Beckett had Cesare drop Mercurio off in front of his building, stating he had other business to tend to—plus Mercurio had proven he could take care of himself in regards to feeding.</p><p>“What, you mean you don’t wanna stay and huddle together in the bathroom all day?”</p><p>Mercurio was mostly joking, but the truth was he didn’t want to be alone again. Mercurio had Beckett’s number if he really needed—e-mail, too—but still.</p><p>“As lovely as that sounds, I’ll have to decline,” Beckett replied, one arm leaning out the rolled down passenger side window. “You should seriously consider either finding a new haven or better light proofing this one.”</p><p>“Eh, I’m not gonna make too many plans for the future just yet.”</p><p>“So fatalistic,” Beckett chided. He slipped his sunglasses down to look Mercurio in the eye. “Remember whose childe you are.”</p><p>“At this point?” Mercurio scoffed. “It might as well be <em>you</em>. Fuck, it’s not like Anatole’s shown his face since that night.”</p><p>Cesare chuckled. It was the first time Mercurio could ever recall hearing him laugh.</p><p>“And yet, somehow, his presence still looms.” Beckett looked to Cesare and started to roll the window up—a good excuse to avoid looking at Mercurio, too. “We should go if we’re to make it back to the safe house before sunrise.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.” At the mention of dawn approaching, Cesare immediately sobered up, figuratively speaking. “Take care, Mr. Mercurio. It was nice talking with you.”</p><p>He had to raise his voice for that last bit as the passenger side window slid shut.</p><p>If he could, Beckett would no doubt be blushing furiously. It was all in his tone—and the way he was suddenly in a very big hurry.</p><p>Mercurio stepped back from the curb, smirking just a little. </p><p>“See you two around,” he called, waving them off. He watched the car until it disappeared around the corner before stepping inside. </p><p>His apartment didn’t feel so welcoming anymore, but he was getting sick and tired of Santa Monica in general—especially after that little stunt Jeanette pulled on him. If his heritage or successfully completing LaCroix’s warehouse assignment earned him a stay of execution, maybe it was time to relocate elsewhere in the city after all. </p><p>The only question was where.</p>
<hr/><p>There were two new messages waiting the next evening. One was from Knox telling him in too many words where to meet Tung—the other, to Mercurio’s surprise, was from Trip.</p><p>“Hey, uh, I know it’s been a while. I guess we both suck about stayin’ in touch, huh?”</p><p>Kind of a low blow, but he wasn’t wrong. There was hiss of static as Trip huffed a laugh directly into the speaker of his pawn shop’s old land line. “Yeah, so, not to make you think I only call when I want somethin’ buuuuut... you should drop by the shop sometime. People’ve been spooked with that thing that happened on the pier, so I could totally use the extra help, y’know what I mean?”</p><p>“You’re not subtle,” Mercurio muttered to the recording.</p><p>“Just whenever you have the chance is cool,” Trip added quickly. “Later, dude.”</p><p>Mercurio went to the hidden panel in his walk-in closet and considered what would happen to everything there if he didn’t make it through whatever happened after Tung led him to the warehouse.</p><p>Ghouls didn’t get the luxury of a living will, but then neither did vampires.</p><p>He started grabbing stuff off the shelves.</p>
<hr/><p>An hour later he was in the back room of Trip’s Pawn Shop, having brought him way more than he expected. Mercurio could’ve brought more, but his car was still in for repairs and it would’ve looked suspicious if he lugged in more guns than someone his size could feasibly handle just by stuffing them in a duffle bag to carry down the street—and no way was he making multiple trips to do this. The big stuff would just have to stay behind.</p><p>“Dude,” Trip said, lovingly running his hand down the stock of an antique Winchester rifle. Mercurio always loved that one, too. “Lots of these are, like, collector’s items. No way could I sell ‘em.” He sighted down the rifle as he pointed it at a cardboard box that contained god knew what. A voice that was definitely <em>not</em> god told Mercurio it was mostly drugs.</p><p>“I mean... <em>dude!”</em> Trip was even more eloquent than him at times. “Even if I could find buyers for the antiques, I couldn’t in good conscience just let ‘em go!”</p><p>“I know.” That’s why Mercurio liked Trip. “I just need you to hold on to ‘em for a few days. Meanwhile, you can sell the knives and regular shit. I know you’re runnin’ a business here.”</p><p>“Another job, huh?”</p><p>“You know it.”</p><p>“Geez, Merc.” Trip polished the rifle a little before putting it back with the others. “You should totally ask for a raise. They work you too hard.”</p><p>Mercurio’s pulse jumped. Going to the effort to look human again for Trip’s sake had its drawbacks. He laughed a little. “I actually kinda got promoted recently, but it’s just a lot more pressure and shit hours. Not worth the hassle, honestly.”</p><p>Trip leaned against the table and folded his arms over his chest, mostly to keep himself from touching all the other guns like a giddy kid on Christmas. He tried to be cool.</p><p>“No chance of going back to your old position?”</p><p>“Nah.” Mercurio smiled bitterly. “This is for keeps.”</p><p>“That blows.”</p><p>“You have no fuckin’ idea.”</p><p>Trip only had the vaguest inkling of what Mercurio got up to, assuming it was at least as shady as the drugs and illegal weapons sales he made out of his pawn shop. Mercurio knew by poking around that he wasn’t Trip’s only supplier of weapons, even had to pull some strings to make sure the cops left him completely alone—not that Trip was aware. Trip just thought he was lucky. Better that way. Mercurio didn’t want him feeling too beholden, much less knowing about any of his connections.</p><p>The arrangement they had meant neither asked too many questions about the other’s business. It was nice how Trip thought Mercurio was just a fellow two-bit criminal, nothing special. The worst he suspected of him was mafia ties, which was just hilarious, considering Mercurio’s past.</p><p>“How long do you think you’ll be gone for?” Trip asked.</p><p>“Dunno.” Mercurio touched the necklace at his throat anxiously. “I’ll call you when it’s all over, but you can keep that Winchester you had your eye on, if you want. Consider it payment for gunsitting for me.”</p><p>“<em>Dude!”</em> Trip was taken aback by his generosity. He saw the engraving on it. They both knew how much it was worth. “No way!”</p><p>“Yes way,” Mercurio insisted. “If not the Winchester, then whichever gun you decide you really like best. I don’t care.”</p><p>Trip’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “This better not be, like, a thing where you’re expectin’ to go off and get killed.”</p><p>Mercurio said nothing to that.</p><p>“Aw, Merc,” Trip groaned. “C’mon.”</p><p>“I better get goin’.”</p><p>Trip surprised Mercurio by pulling him into a fierce hug as he passed by the table. Damn good thing he wasted vitae to give his skin the right amount of warmth.</p><p>“Try not to die,” Trip said. He sniffed as he pulled away, trying to hide the tears that were starting, but Mercurio could see how his eyes glistened. “I mean it, Merc. I make too much money off the shit you bring in. I’d hate to lose that, y’know.”</p><p>Mercurio shook his head. Yeah, right, just bros committing felonies together. No more, no less.</p><p>“Look at it this way,” he replied, gesturing to the small arsenal on the table. “If I eat it, you get to keep the whole shebang.”</p><p>“Yay,” Trip said without enthusiasm.</p><p>Did Trip seriously care about his well-being beyond how it affected his supply chain? They only ‘hung out’ in the context of Mercurio taking him to a remote desert range to test out the ammo he hand-crafted—he didn’t really need the help, he just enjoyed Trip’s reactions—but maybe that counted for something after all. He couldn’t allow himself to think too hard about it yet, not when Tung was waiting and there was still a Sabbat warehouse to blow up.</p><p>Mercurio couldn’t afford to get distracted by feelings.</p><p>Not after what happened last time.</p>
<hr/><p>The sewers. <em>Again</em>. Three times in as many nights. Tung led down a winding route that seemed intentionally designed to be confusing.</p><p>“This the quickest way?” Mercurio asked, getting annoyed.</p><p>“No,” Tung responded. “But trust me, some of these tunnels you <em>don’t</em> wanna go down.”</p><p>Mercurio grumbled.</p><p>“Aww, cheer up.” Tung’s laughter was as raspy and unpleasant as his regular speaking voice. “After this you never have to come down here again.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Unless you keep hanging around Beckett. Based off the things I hear, trouble has a way of finding him.”</p><p>Mercurio stumbled as he stepped on something weirdly squishy hidden in the water. A dead rat? He cursed under his breath.</p><p>“The way I see it,” he said, recovering quickly. “Trouble fuckin’ found me. Maybe it’s the same for him.”</p><p>Did Anatole count as trouble for the both of them? Beckett never did tell Mercurio what was up with him, or what their relationship was like before Anatole shoved him in that pit.</p><p>“Then you two belong together,” Tung scoffed. They were passing into an older section of tunnels, where the bricks looked about as old as the corrupt waterways that turned LA into an oasis in the desert. “Ironic, seeing as <em>his</em> adoptive sire is Malkavian.”</p><p>Mercurio scowled at Tung’s back. “You always give away this much information for free?”</p><p>“Maybe I’m feeling generous cause you got Therese off my back and stopped my ghoul from doing something incredibly stupid.”</p><p>“I warned Knox not to try and reason with her.”</p><p>“I was more afraid of him running into Jeanette,” Tung said with a shake of his boil covered head. “She’d eat that poor kid alive.”</p><p>“You mean literally, or—?”</p><p>“I think you know the answer to that.” Tung stopped at a rusty ladder that looked identical to countless others they’d passed. “This is it.”</p><p>Mercurio tightened his grip on the strap across his shoulder. He’d traded the duffle bag for a small backpack containing only the astrolite and a few essentials, but the hope was he wouldn’t have to fire a single shot to get the job done.</p><p>Tung pulled out a sheet of paper. “Here. Study it quick.”</p><p>It was a hand drawn map of the warehouse and the railway yard surrounding it. Tung glanced away as Mercurio looked up, as though embarrassed.</p><p>“Consider it a small bonus for saving Knox from getting all his blood bagged or his brains fucked out, depending on who he ran into.”</p><p>“They probably wouldn’t have <em>really</em> done anything,” Mercurio said as he studied the map. He saw couple of good entry points—it all depended on how many guards were around.</p><p>“Who the hell can say for certain?” Tung said. “They’re crazy. No offense.”</p><p>“None taken.” Mercurio folded the note and started to hand it back, but something in the way the light glinted off Tung’s boils and piercings stopped him.</p><p>He saw a barrage of images. Strange and familiar layered together in his beleaguered brain’s piss poor attempt to make sense of the signal it was receiving, starting with fragments from that fucked up Watership Down cartoon—specifically rabbits screaming and dying. Blood splattered everywhere, real and animated over a sewer tunnel a lot like the one they were standing in as a warped creature that was no rabbit greedily tore into a body mangled beyond recognition. The thing was all limbs—just a head attached to muscular arms, a nightmare that hungered and would never be full. Someone Mercurio couldn’t see interrupted the feast. It looked up with bloodshot human eyes and howled. The creature’s war cry and the sound of the rabbits dying intermingled.</p><p>It was all Mercurio could do to keep from clutching his head.</p><p>“Uh, hello? Earth to Mercurio?”</p><p>Tung had taken the note back—had taken it a while ago. Now he was waving his hand in front of Mercurio’s face.</p><p>“Blood in the drains,” Mercurio said, though it wasn’t what he <em>meant</em> to say. “Clogging them. So much blood. Too much to wash away. Not many rabbits will survive.”</p><p>Tung smirked, trying to act like he wasn’t bothered by the words. “Sure you don’t mean rats there?”</p><p>Mercurio focused on Tung. This was too important to laugh off.</p><p>“Don’t go near the Warrens. Not now. Not for a while.”</p><p>Tung stopped smirking. Stopped slouching, too. He was taller than he looked. “What did you say?”</p><p>Whatever had seized Mercurio let go. He put a hand on the closest rung of the latter to steady himself. There was no comment from the peanut gallery in his head, mercifully, but he didn’t like the look Tung was giving him—like he was crazy. Dangerously crazy. Just like the Voerman twins.</p><p>No, theirs was a totally different crazy, but it’s not like he could expect an outsider to understand.</p><p>Still stung.</p><p>“Seriously, do you have any idea what you just said?”</p><p>“Not really,” Mercurio replied, starting to climb just to avoid further questions. “But if it makes absolutely <em>any</em> sense to you, I’d follow that advice. Thanks for everything, by the way! Tell Knox I said hi!”</p><p>He heard Tung muttering about Malkavians as he pushed the manhole cover aside. Mercurio sympathized. He hated the cryptic bullshit, too.</p>
<hr/><p>Mercurio took an unnecessary breath, held it longer than should’ve been comfortably possible, and slowly exhaled. He had to focus on the present, on what was right in front of him—and that was a punk in a leather jacket pissing in an abandoned train station bathroom that lacked a door. He had his back to Mercurio.</p><p>Fuck it, why not? He needed every edge he could get.</p><p>The punk gasped and splashed his boots as Mercurio bit into his throat. The taste immediately made him regret the decision to top off. Fear and regret of ever allying with a bunch of monsters flavored the punk’s blood, and compared to last night it tasted too damn sour. Mercurio broke away and licked the wound, leaving the punk swooning in a daze over the urinal. </p><p>He backed away, knowing the sad bastard would rationalize it away once the post-Kiss daze wore off. </p><p>Outside the decrepit station was a maze of rusting train cars that Mercurio refused to deal with—he cut straight through, briefly shrugging the backpack off so he could squeeze through a gap between cars. He froze at the sound of voices coming from inside one of the very cars he was squeezing past.</p><p>“Are you gonna call or what?”</p><p>“I’m thinking.”</p><p>“We don’t have all goddamn night.”</p><p>“If they choose us, we get all eternity.”</p><p>“Still only nights, dumbass.”</p><p>“I fold.”</p><p>Mercurio rolled his eyes and continued on toward his target. The Sabbat warehouse was one of several in the old rail yard, but by the end of the night it was gonna be the only one in flames. Mercurio shifted the backpack into position again before carrying on, cursing every lamp post he passed under. He moved slowly. Wary of every footstep he heard. There were too many fucking people around, but as far as he could tell all of them were mortal. They knew about the Sabbat, because what did they care about the Masquerade, but they were mortal.</p><p>He reached a ladder on the side of the warehouse and climbed, moving as quickly as he dared. The rats nesting in the attic scattered, but they were the only ones to see him pass down to the metal rafters high over the warehouse floor. Damn good thing he didn’t mind heights, but the narrow width of the beams forced him to move with extreme care towards the catwalk leading to the office on the second floor.</p><p>As he held his arms out to help balance, Mercurio once again had to appreciate the lack of flop sweat or a jackhammering pulse. He only had to deal with vivid image of slipping and falling right into the middle of the armed goons moving crates around far below. They were arguing over whether or not they could still eat food after becoming vampires—even sandwiches. The answer was no, but Mercurio would hate to interrupt. </p><p>Step. Pause. Step.</p><p>Once directly over the catwalk, the only option was to jump straight down. It was a long way, but the argument was getting heated. Mercurio landed just as the hopeful sandwich eater wailed, “That’s disgusting!”</p><p>“Nah, man,” his realist companion insisted. “I’m pretty sure you’d have to barf it back up.”</p><p>No one noticed Mercurio as he stalked towards the office door. It was locked, as Tung’s map warned him, but Mercurio came prepared. </p><p>It’d been a while since he picked a lock, but the one on the door wasn’t too complicated. He paused before opening it. The conversation on down below had naturally progressed from food to theorizing about vampires getting high.</p><p>“We could just get high right now.”</p><p>“You know if we touch any of this shit they’ll kill us.”</p><p>“Worse than kill us.”</p><p>Mercurio opened the door. The office was empty. He quietly shut the door behind him and moved to the big mahogany desk in its center. The explosives would fit neatly under it. He unzipped the backpack.</p><p>“Showtime,” he whispered.</p><p>The arming device was insultingly basic. All he had to do was decide how long it would take to safely get clear, while also not leaving too much time for it to be discovered. Mercurio hesitated as he punched in the digits. Five minutes was maybe too generous. One only worked if he knew Celerity, which he didn’t. </p><p>He bit his lip. He was doing it again.</p><p>Mercurio touched his necklace. He could do this. He knew the way out, knew which doors were locked. No one had seen him yet. He set the timer for three minutes and armed the explosive. The digital display beeped and started counting down.</p><p>He took the other door out of the office.</p><p>The loading crew had moved on to vampire horror stories. Mercurio half listened while he picked the lock at the bottom of the stairs.</p><p>“It’s called degloving. My cousin had it happen to him in a factory accident, but this was on purpose.”</p><p>“But it was his <em>whole arm!”</em></p><p>“I dunno, man. That’s just what it’s called.”</p><p>“Why?!”</p><p>“Why do they call it that, or why did the freaky dude rip the skin off his arm?”</p><p>“<em>Both!”</em></p><p>Mercurio didn’t have time to hang around and hear the answer to those questions. He felt like the timer was hanging over his head as he stepped out of the warehouse, moving as quickly as he dared while still trying to be stealthy. He stuck to the shadows as he hugged the fence, waiting until he was sure nobody was around to see before jumping it. With the bomb planted, there was no sense remaining within the confines of the rail yard. </p><p>He landed in a patch of tall grass on the other side of the fence. Privacy slats woven through the chain links hid him from view as he moved parallel to it, waiting for the boom. The ground shook when it happened. Orange lit up the night sky, and thick, billowing black smoke soon followed. Mercurio sighed with relief and hurried away from the scene of the crime.</p><p>He made it a few blocks, still deep in the city’s industrial district, when the distinct sound of paws running on crumbling blacktop—coming towards him—made Mercurio turn and draw.</p><p>Good thing he had the wherewithal not to fire. It would’ve been embarrassing if he shot Beckett.</p><p>Mercurio politely looked away as the wolf reared up on its hind legs. He didn’t need to see the rest.</p><p>“You might’ve told me you planned on more arson tonight,” Beckett drawled. “This is getting to be a nasty habit with you.”</p><p>Mercurio shrugged. Without the astrolite weighing it down, the backpack felt very light on his shoulder now. “I didn’t think Tung would get back with me so soon.” He shot Beckett a pointed look. “And didn’t you also say last night it was clear I could handle myself?”</p><p>“As far as <em>feeding</em>, yes.” Beckett pushed his shades up. “But if you were discovered in there you could have found yourself fighting Sabbat Kindred.”</p><p>“Well, I wasn’t.” Mercurio turned and started walking. “And now it’s done.”</p><p>“So there’s nothing left but for you to report back to LaCroix, correct?”</p><p>Mercurio froze. Funny, cause at the same time he also desperately wanted to run. “Yeah. Right.”</p><p>“Need a ride downtown?”</p><p>“To my execution?” Mercurio uttered an ugly, hysterical little laugh as he turned back to Beckett. “Sure, why not?”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>See, the warehouse is super easy when you don’t obey the laws of video games. And also don’t bother looting anything because you have way more guns at home.</p><p>Now it’s just about time to face the music.</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I’m playing it fast and loose with lore here, so the timeline is a bit muddy due to mixing elements of V5. The Sabbat is still around but starting to fragment, the Second Inquisition isn’t on the horizon yet, etc. I may play up some game mechanics while totally ignoring others, whatever keeps things interesting!</p><p>No idea when updates will happen, but let me know what you think!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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